My Private Eye
by random987123
Summary: 1936, New Orleans. Sookie is a private eye hoping to clear her brother's name in a murder investigation. Eric seeks her services to help him find a thief among his employees. As the mystery unravels, both find the situation more complicated. AU
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I was so excited when I heard about the Secret Santa Fic exchange. It was such a fun way to get in the holiday and fanfic spirit! This story was written for Wylis. The idea for this story began when I saw the July 2011 edition of Vogue, featuring an amazing 1930s style photo spread of one Alexander Skarsgård. SVM seems perfectly suited to a noir adaptation, and to my knowledge, it hasn't been done yet. Since it turned out to be way too long to post as a one shot, I'll be posting the rest in weekly installments after the first of the year. Stay tuned to see what happens to our telepathic private eye!

Thanks to the contest organizers, Jan of Arc and Blakes Boogie. I also need to thank my friend Cageyspice for editing for 's amazing!

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><p><strong>My Private Eye<strong>

In the distance, I could hear the smooth sounds of jazz pouring out of the bars and the laughter of revelers rising up like steam from the cobblestone streets, but I didn't share the jubilant spirits of the French Quarter on this chilly night.

"Hey, Miss Sookie," Lafayette called as I climbed the stairs up to my office in the 900 block of Bourbon Street. The queer, black cook from the dive cafe next door was a sometimes-friend of mine. We didn't have much in common, but we were both outcasts in our own way. "Working late again, I see?"

"No rest for the wicked," I said with an ironic smile.

"Hmmm, ain't that true," he said as he took a long drag of what I hoped was a cigarette, but smelled like it could have been a reefer. "So when are you going to bring around that pretty boy brother of yours?"

"I don't know, Laf. He's a busy man," I said as I fumbled with my keys until I found the one to the front door of my office.

"Very busy, from what I hear," he said. "And I kept tellin' ya, I'da been perfectly happy to keep him out of trouble..."

I snorted, pulling my fur collar closer around my neck to keep the cold January air at bay as I struggled with the secret handshake that made the deadbolt turn on my office door. "Now if that isn't the biggest lie I've heard today; word around town is trouble is your middle name."

"I blame my momma too, even if she didn't give me a name like that," he said with a hoot. "See you around, Miss Sookie, even if it is too late for your brother." He threw his butt on the ground and went back into the restaurant. It was nice that someone was at least getting a chuckle out of the horrible situation Jason had gotten himself into.

I finally managed to jiggle the lock the right way, twisting my wrist and pulling up at that perfect angle. As soon as I was inside, I flipped the lock closed again, set my handbag on the side table by the door, and hung my coat on the rack without pausing to turn on the light. With resignation and fatigue, I sank into my chair and propped my feet up on my desk. A small laugh escaped my mouth as I noticed how perfectly the new incandescent street lamp cast a shadow of the words stenciled on the door onto the hardwood floor.

**STACKHOUSE**

**PRIVATE EYE**

I opened the evening paper to find the same name in the headlines in reference to my brother, a suspect in a series of murders of local women. Jason had never been very smart, but I'd never thought he'd be stupid enough to get mixed up in a mess like this. Though I knew he hadn't done it, on account of being able to read his mind, I also knew that the gumshoes didn't care so much about guilt or innocence as long as they closed the case. Never mind if more dead bodies piled up later; they'd just find someone else to blame.

I had to do something. It was my fault Jason was here. If he hadn't had the notion to follow me to New Orleans to look for work on the docks after the depression hit, killing any hope he'd had of a job in our hometown, he'd have ended up shacked up with Crystal Norris and eking out a living on the barren land at the crossroads people called Hotshot and would have never ended up in this mess.

But even in that year right after the crash, New Orleans had seemed full of possibilities. I'd naively followed the first man I'd fallen in love with, then been seduced by the bright lights of the city and the freedom after my escape from the town where everyone thought me strange. Little had I known that the cruel people of the city would think far worse of me than the citizens of Bon Temps, or that the man I'd come to love would never be able to commit to me in the way I'd hoped for.

'To Death Do Us Part' doesn't work when half the couple is already dead.

That was five years ago, and though I knew the city's cobblestone streets well, now every alley seemed like a dead end. Not that business wasn't booming; I had to turn clients away. Even though money was tight, people always seemed to find a way to pay for my services, whether it was to find out that their wife was cheating or to dig up dirt so they could blackmail their business partner. And that was the humans.

Given my ability, I was well qualified to provide information that was beyond the reach of even the most skilled detectives. Since my methods weren't consistent with acceptable investigative practices, I was better working on my own than for the police, even if I hadn't been bothered by their corruption.

In theory, I should have been able to clear my brother's name easily. The police had no reason to trust me, but they couldn't deny clear evidence if I were able to find it. I just needed to steer them towards the true killer. The problem was, I was certain that it was a vampire that was responsible for this spree of murders, and vampires were the only creatures I'd ever encountered whose thoughts were dark to me.

At one point, I'd considered that a plus.

My best bet was turning to my friend Amelia for help. Though I wasn't keen on trying out any of her spells—as they tended to go horribly wrong—she was my only other contact in the supernatural world. I glanced at my watch, but it was frozen at 7:15. It didn't matter. Whatever the time, it was too late to seek out Amelia tonight. That would have to wait until tomorrow.

A rap at the door startled me and a shadow of wide shoulders now blocked my name on the floor. It wasn't unusual for me to see clients this late, but it was uncommon for someone to stop by unannounced. A quick scan with my extra sense revealed why I hadn't noticed the figure's approach. All I was registering was a blank void, which meant a vampire was standing at my door.

I opened it with confidence. A vampire couldn't enter without being invited, because in addition to the small room above Bourbon Street being home to my office, I kept a small room in back where I slept. A tall, imposing man in a crisp suit and smart-looking hat stood waiting on the other side of the threshold. The light of the streetlamp silhouetted him, obscuring his face in the shadows.

"Good evening," he said, his voice a low purr. "I'd like an audience with your boss, if you please."

"My boss?" I hadn't had one of those since I'd worked for Sam Merlotte back in Bon Temps.

"Yes. Stackhouse. A friend referred me to his services. I assume you're his secretary?"

I smiled sweetly at him. This cocky vampire obviously had no idea who he was dealing with.

"And you are?" The tall blonde looked vaguely familiar, someone I might have seen in passing, but hadn't had reason to remember. He may have been handsome, and his brain was blissfully silent, but he was still a vampire, and once bitten…

"Eric Northman. I own the club a few blocks down." 'Club' made the place sound classier than it was. He must have meant the former speakeasy people referred to as Death Warmed Over, though there was no sign on the inconspicuous door. For someone who owned the premier supernatural bar in the South, he kept a low profile. Maybe he was smarter than this blunder would lead one to believe.

"So, Mr. Northman. What brings you here?"

"A friend said that Stackhouse had a special way of finding things out," he said. "I have a mystery that needs solving." The way his piercing blue eyes methodically moved from my heels up to my hair, I was sure they were peeling off each layer of my clothing all the way down to my slip and stockings. From the way he licked his lips, I figured he enjoyed his using his imagination. He obviously didn't have a clue that the Stackhouse he sought was a woman. I couldn't resist toying with him, since I was safely on the other side of the invisible barrier that kept me out of his reach.

"Why don't you just figure it out yourself? I'm sure you have your own ways of finding things out." I was the only person I knew who wasn't susceptible to the mental influence of vampires, on account of my quirk. Since they could pluck whatever information they needed out of any human's head or alter their memories as they saw fit, they didn't generally have need of my services. If 'glamour' didn't work, they always had torture to fall back on.

"Ah, that I do. But my methods tend to get messy. I like Louisiana and want to stay awhile. I hear Stackhouse has a very delicate approach."

"You really care about getting messy?" Even Bill, who was quite civilized by vampire standards, had no compunction about doing whatever it took to get what he wanted, even if it meant hurting humans. I had no reason to think this vamp was any different.

"Depends on the circumstances," he said, his words heavy with innuendo. "Some messes can be quite pleasurable."

I smiled, not ruffled in the least.

"Well, Mr. Northman, I'm Sookie Stackhouse. Why don't you tell me why a vampire I've never met is seeking out my services, especially without having a clue as to who I am? That's rather suspicious, if you ask me."

To his credit, Northman didn't flinch when he realized his mistake—or that I recognized him for what he was. He smoothed the front of his tie and answered my question without missing a beat. "Some vampires no longer wish to remain hidden. Technology is advancing rapidly. It won't be possible for us to stay in the dark forever." He smiled at his own pun, wide enough that his white teeth shone in the dim light from the streetlamp. "The day of our revelation approaches; it has already been set in motion. I'm planning to stay ahead of the game. This requires exercising restraint and employing a certain finesse."

There was a hint at an accent in his voice, the origins of which must have been somewhere far away. I wondered how old he was, and what had brought him here. New Orleans was home to a mélange of different cultures. No one batted an eye to see a black man, an Indian, or someone of Northern European ancestry, which with his striking features, blonde hair, and penetrating blue eyes, was certainly where this vampire was from. His name said it all. Eric Northman. Yes, he must find that amusing.

Under normal circumstances, I'd never invite a vampire into my office, let alone consider working for one again—not after what happened last time. But that headline SUSPECT FOUND with my brother's name attached to it flashed in my mind, and I knew that working with him would make it infinitely more likely that I could track down the vampire that was behind the murders the local press was accusing my previously unknown brother of committing. The temptation was too great.

"So, then, why don't you come in and tell me what it is that you need finding out?"

Mr. Northman flashed me another bawdy grin as he crossed the threshold. I took comfort in knowing that I could rescind his invitation and send him flying out of the room should the need arise.

A simple embezzlement job was all it turned out to be. Upon hearing Mr. Northman's dilemma, it sounded fishy. If a vampire thought a human was stealing from him, he'd just glamour or torture information out of him, then exact retribution in any number of painful ways. No reason to enlist the services of a telepathic private eye.

"Tell me again, why is it that you require my special skills?" I shifted in my chair, glancing at the newspaper sitting on the corner of my desk. Was this just the cover for a much more sinister plan? A ploy to entrap me? For all I knew, Eric Northman was the vampire killing girls in the French Quarter, and thought it best to get me out of the way so he could successfully pin it on my brother now that he was a suspect. Pretending not to know whom I was when he first came to my door could have been nothing but an act. Without access to his thoughts, I had no way of knowing his true intentions, but understanding vampire nature the way I did, it would have been foolish for me to take him at his word.

Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of my desk, bringing his eyes level with mine. "Tell me, Miss Stackhouse, what exactly are your special skills?"

"Finding out valuable information in a delicate manner. Just as you were told, by my former client whom you refuse to name." Even if he could sense that my heart rate had increased, I wouldn't let him see the fear on my face. I focused on continuing to appear calm, forcing myself to look him in the eye. I felt the tingle at the edge of my thoughts as he tried to glamour me. The skin between his eyebrows wrinkled in frustration when he realized it wasn't working.

"That, Miss Stackhouse, is one of the reasons I believe we can come to a business arrangement that will be quite satisfactory to both of us."

"What reason do I have to trust you?"

"None, whatsoever. And doesn't that make this all so much more interesting?"

I fought the smile that twitched at the corners of my mouth and ignored his question. Not knowing what it was he was thinking or if he was telling me the truth did make doing business with him much more interesting. But that wasn't the reason I was going to agree to work for him.

"I'll make a deal with you, Mr. Northman."

Eric's eyebrow quirked up, and he leaned back, sitting upright, adopting a posture meant to imply his power.

"And what is it that you propose?" Another amused smirk curled the corner of his lips, just wide enough for me to know that his fangs weren't extended, though it wasn't hard to imagine what they looked like when they were. Eric was entertained enough by my proposition to wave for me to continue with an elegant flash of his hand and a nod.

"I'll find out which one of your employees is stealing from you. On one condition."

Eric's blue eyes sparkled with guile. When he didn't immediately demand to set the terms of our arrangement, I knew that he must really want me to work for him. "Let's hear it," he said after a thoughtful pause.

"If it is a human that is swindling you, you'll turn him over to the police. I won't give you any information that will lead to someone's death. If I find the thief, you can't just kill them."

"As I explained, I have no interest in unnecessarily attracting attention to myself or my business, nor do I wish to wish to place myself at odds with humans. Your terms are acceptable." I noticed he didn't agree outright, but I hadn't even expected as much assurance as he had just given me.

"There will also be a considerable fee."

"Of course." His eyes flickered up and down my body again in assessment. "Something tells me you will be worth the price."

I bristled at the implication. But I needed this in to investigate the French Quarter murders and hopefully clear my brother's name, so I swallowed the hesitation that caught in my throat. We spent a few moments haggling over the details. He didn't seem to sense that it was all irrelevant to me. What I wanted was an excuse to infiltrate his club in order to pick up a lead on the Midnight Romeo killing women in the Quarter, and hopefully clear my brother's name.

"That's settled then," he said. "You'll report to the club tomorrow night. We'll discuss a specific strategy after you've had time to feel out the scene, so to say." Eric stood, and I realized just how imposing he was as he reached his full height, well over six feet. But now that he'd offered exactly what I wanted, it wasn't the time to get intimidated.

"Yes. See you then."

He turned toward the door, but before he left, looked over his shoulder one last time.

"See you then, Sookie Stackhouse."


	2. Chapter 2

I know I said I wasn't going to post weekly here, thinking I'd just post weekly on my blog (because it is so much easier to do those final tweeks and edits!) but because so many of you put it on alert, I figured I wouldn't wait until it was 100% complete to post here. So, after I've had a chance to do an edit after posting (I always find something to fix as soon as I hit "publish") and let it sit on wordpress until I'm sure I'm done tinkering, then I'll post here. That way I don't have to work so hard to keep both versions the same.

Thanks to Cageyspice for cleaning this up. She's got such a good eye. Any errors left are my own!

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><p>The sun was already low in the sky and hidden under a blanket of grey clouds. The colors seemed washed out of everything; the normally colorful Bourbon Street seemed desolate and dreary in the late afternoon. Sam Merlotte was hauling boxes of fish that would undoubtedly end up in his famous seafood gumbo into the back door of his cafe as I descended the steps from my office.<p>

"Hello, Sam."

"Hey there, Cher," he said as he sat down the crate and then ran his hands through his tangled mess of red-blond curls. I liked Sam better than most humans because his thoughts were more muffled than those of most people, but I'd still turned him down every time he'd asked me out on a date. His gumbo was delicious, but he always smelled like fish. Besides, my relationship history didn't have me wanting to jump back into those shark-infested waters anytime soon. "Where you off to this fine afternoon?" he called, smiling sweetly.

"Business, errands, the usual," I answered, polite yet vague. The less people knew about me, the better. Especially since my brother was being accused of murder and I had just agreed to work for a vampire. No sense getting Sam in trouble just for knowing too much. He was, after all, one of the few nice guys I knew.

"Stop by for dinner later. I'll fix you up somethin' special." And though Sam flashed me that wide, genuine smile of his, I couldn't bring myself to return it.

"We'll see," I said, and turned to make my way up the street towards Amelia's magic shop, over on the far side of Jackson Square. The brisk walk gave me time to think, which wasn't necessarily a good thing. I wondered where Jason was hiding out. I hoped he hadn't run. That'd only make things worse.

Luckily it didn't take too long to work my way through the square, and even more luckily, there weren't any other customers at Amelia's when I arrived. There were lots of practitioners in New Orleans, so she was often too busy to have a private conversation with me in her shop during business hours.

Amelia wasn't just selling trinkets to tourists or dabbling in voodou—though she did both of those things. She studied magic despite her father's objections and was devoted to her craft. We'd become fast friends when we'd helped each other out of a pickle when I'd first moved to the city, and even though we didn't see eye to eye on everything, I liked Amelia because she was honest. This witch wasn't shy about speaking her mind.

"Sookie!" she squealed with delight when the bell rang, signalling my entrance. "I knew you'd stop by."

"So, what, you're psychic now?" I teased.

"No, I just figured with what was going on with Jason, you'd want to talk."

I let out a long sigh. Amelia didn't normally follow the news, so some gossiping witch must have tipped her off to the story. "He's really done it this time. I told him prostitutes were bad news, but I was mostly warning him against disease."

"The least of Jason's problems is the boogie-woogie. I've even got a cure for that. You saw this morning's paper, right?" She said as she led me through the maze of tables covered in candles and shelves of jars of herbs for potions to the back of her shop. I didn't have to read the article, because I saw in her thoughts that the papers had done another exposé on my brother. Front page. There wouldn't be a person in any Louisiana that wouldn't convict him after reading it.

We went back behind Amelia's counter where she had a fresh pot of tea. Though she offered me some, I declined. Tea was calming, soothing, and I needed to stay alert. Amelia shrugged her shoulders and took out a sandwich. For something to do, I read the article in question, but it didn't have the full story.

What the reporter had failed to mention was that each murdered girl had suffered from chronic anemia, and all had tiny twin puncture wounds. I'd discovered that tidbit when I'd snuck into the morgue yesterday and examined them myself. Dead bodies used to give me the heebie-jeebies, but after seeing so much death in my life, the effect had worn off. What _had_ scared me was when the coroner almost caught me. I'd had to pretend I was lost when the old attendant to the dead had walked in on me snopping around. Despite the close call, it had given me a chance to catch a bit of what he was thinking, and he was definitely jittery about this particular brash of murders. He'd been perplexed by those small, round markings, but didn't want to speculate as to their cause so he hadn't mentioned it to the police. I'd picked that much up from his thoughts yesterday afternoon. In all cases, the girls had died from a whack on the side of the head. He also didn't know what to make of the blood loss, since it was not related to the cause of death, so he'd remained silent about it as well.

He didn't know about vampires. But I did.

For a moment I regretted coming to see Amelia at all, but if I was going to be walking into a vampire's nest tonight, I wanted someone to know.

"I have a plan, Amelia. A way to clear Jason's name," I said, breaking the silence.

Amelia didn't even wait to swallow her last bite of sandwich before urging me to continue. "Oh, well come on! You know I'm not a mind reader like you." She gestured wildly, nearly knocking her cup of tea over on a pile of grimoires.

Her enthusiasm made me hesitate. I'd come here for the sole purpose of letting my friend know what I was up to in case anything went wrong, and now I was second guessing myself. Really, I had no right to drag her into this. "It's dangerous."

"Well I didn't figure it'd be a walk in the park," she said as she rolled her eyes at me. I could tell from her thoughts she was eager for the information, so I decided I could relay the most basic details.

"I'm only telling you because I want someone to know where I am. There's no need for you to get involved."

"Sookie … what is it?"

Now I'd blown it up so big, her thoughts were jumping to all kinds of crazy plots to get Jason out of trouble, some of them more unbelievable than what I was actually doing. So I just spit it out, and braced myself for her reaction. "I'm going to Death Warmed Over tonight."

"That treacherous underground bar in the Quarter? No respectable lady would ever be caught dead there." And Amelia knew for herself, since she was nothing close to a respectable lady, at least by New Orleans society standards. She'd been to Death before, and found it even too rough for her tastes.

"Well I'd never just waltz in there. The owner wants me to do a job. It's simple enough, really. Someone's stealing money, he wants me to find out who it is. He doesn't need to know I'll be working another case while I'm there." There simply wasn't a better option. I didn't have a lot of time, and no way I'd get access to the vamp world any other way.

"Did you consider it might be a trap?"

Amelia obviously thought I was some sort of amateur, but I'd been around this block before. I knew there were all kinds of contingencies I couldn't plan for. "Yes. But the bottom line is, a vampire is the one responsible for killing those girls, not my brother. The only way to get Jason out of trouble is to give the police another suspect."

"But the police can't do anything about a vampire."

"That's not my problem."

Amelia knew better than most there was no sense arguing with me once I'd made up my mind, so all she said was "good luck, and be careful." I didn't need the advice, but I figured I needed all the luck I could get. She walked me out to the front of the shop. She gave me a hug, then grabbed a small leather bag and pressed it into my palm.

"Take this for good luck?"

"What is it?" Though I had a certain respect for Amelia, I was highly skeptical of her potions and charms. Though I knew supernatural elements existed in this world, I wasn't sure humans could exact much control over them with herbs or words.

"Just a good luck charm. Some devil's shoestring and a dime. Usually I sell it to gamblers, but seems what you're about to do isn't much different than a high stakes game of cards. Put it in your handbag. At least you'll know you always have a spare dime." I couldn't argue against her wisdom, so I tucked it into my pocketbook and opened the door to leave.

"Let me know how it goes," she called as I walked out. I nodded without looking back.

After dark, I dressed in a long skirt and discreet silk-satin tie blouse. Anything dressier would have drawn too much unwanted attention in such a place as I was going, as would anything more in line with what the other women at Death Warmed Over might be wearing. After buttoning up my ankle boots I checked my lipstick in the tiny mirror over my washing basin and then took a deep breath. I could do this. I had to. For Jason.

When I arrived at the door that I knew was the entrance to the vampire bar, I didn't know what to do. Just enter? Under normal circumstances I wouldn't dare to do such a thing. Knocking seemed wrong too, but in the end it's what I decided to do, though I was expected and it was a public place.

Just as I was lifting my fist to rap on the old, worn wooden door, it swung open, revealing a petite blond vampire draped impeccably in a fashionable silk dress, though still more conservatively than me. She smiled, a polite, ladylike curving of her mouth that was at odds with the amused menace of her eyes.

"You weren't what I was expecting," she said with a small laugh, then looked me up and down. "No wonder..." she added, shaking her head back and forth, leaving me to guess as to what mystery my appearance explained.

"I'm Stackhouse. Mr. Northman hired me to do some work for him and instructed me to meet him here, tonight," I said. After all, Eric had a thief in his midst, one that could very well be this small woman who would seem so nonthreatening to the untrained eye. I knew better than to underestimate her. And even if Eric insisted that the one stealing money from him was human, I saw no reason to limit my pool of suspects prematurely.

"Yes, I was told. I'm Pam, Eric's right hand," she said, but didn't offer her hand to shake. "He didn't say you were such a looker," she added.

I ignored her comment and the almost lascivious gaze she directed at me, both so incongruous with her demure features. Something told me that I shouldn't discount her as a suspect in the murder of the girls in the Quarter, either. "Do you have a place where I can hang my coat?"

"I'll hang it up in back, but I've got work to do. I don't have time to mind you until Eric arrives. Make yourself comfortable, and I dare say, useful. He'll see you when he pleases." If I hadn't had the ulterior motive of finding out information on the vampire draining prostitutes, I'd have high-tailed it out of there after being treated with such disrespect, but I swallowed my pride and took a seat at the bar where an Indian with long, dark, silky hair was wiping down glasses.

"We don't start serving drinks for another half hour," he said without looking up from his work.

"Don't mind me in the least. I'll take nothing but a water, and only when you get the chance." I pulled off my gloves and hat and set them on the seat beside me next to my purse and sat down to watch.

It didn't take long for the waitress to arrive and notice my presence with distaste. While the bartender, whose name I found out was Longshadow, had been reluctantly chatting with me for a few minutes, I'd learned that he was from South Dakota originally, despite him being a vampire of few words. Gran had taught me to be polite and social, and vampires weren't so different from humans in that they were mostly comfortable talking about themselves, even if they didn't usually beat their gums with strangers. Showing an interest was the key to any conversation. And if I could get friendly with this vamp, he'd likely be able to supply me with some useful information.

But I thought all my progress might be ended when the waitress shot a dark look at me—and the vampire behind the bar. Belinda's thoughts were predatory and possessive; she obviously had a thing for Longshadow. Judging by the heated glances she was flashing him, it was more than an idle flirtation. The bit marks peeking out from her collar were only further proof she was definitely cozying up to the undead and offering them more than company.

Then, before I knew it, the club was bustling with activity, men smoking cigars and playing cards at the round tables in the corners, the few women hanging on to those that were having lucky nights.

Among them, inconspicuously posing as nothing more than drifters and vagabonds, were vampires. I could pick the blank spots out as easy as if they'd borne a red mark. Any one of them could be the one responsible for the crimes my brother was accused of, and without my usual advantage to aid in rooting out the killer, this investigation was going to be much more difficult than other cases.

Luckily, I was up to the challenge. Absent my access to their thoughts, I still had my skills of observation. Finding out who would do such a thing as carelessly murder girls—vampires generally took steps to ensure their kills were cleverly hidden—was simply a matter of finding out who had a motive. I set in to carefully observe the crowd, hoping for a clue. This sort of investigation was much more time consuming than my usual methods, and I had precious little time before my brother would end up in the gallows.

Unfortunately, before I could come up with so much as a promising lead or a spark of an idea, I was reminded of my nominal goal when Eric Northman, dressed impeccably in black pinstripe with matching black hat, strode through the door. All eyes fell upon him, and a hush went back over the patrons of the bar. This vampire certainly knew how to make an entrance. My tongue suddenly felt heavy and dry in my mouth, and I wished I'd ordered something stronger than water. With nothing more than a discrete nod, Eric walked resolutely back towards the direction of his office, and I knew he wished me to follow. As much as I bristled at the subtle summons, I had agreed to this job and needed his help, even if he gave it unknowingly.

"Thanks for the drink, and the company," I said to Longshadow, who barely nodded in silent reply, then grabbed my personal effects and followed Eric's path, ignoring the heads that turned to watch me walk across the seedy bar.

I found him sitting in a chair behind his expansive oak desk, idly thumbing through what must be his ledger, detailing the financial dealings of his businesses. "So, Sookie … may I call you Sookie?" he asked, arching an eyebrow at me. I nodded, stifling a smile. The way my name rolled off his tongue, there was no way to deny him its use.

"Good." His accent was evident in the way he lingered on the vowels. "And what do you think of the place?"

"I think it has been appropriately named." Death Warmed Over was an apt description of the patrons.

Eric smiled widely. "It has its charms."

"Indeed."

"I wanted you to be acquainted with the place and comfortable with your surroundings. Tomorrow night, you will interview my human associates and employees."

"And why are you so certain it is a human who has stolen from you?" I asked.

"A vampire wouldn't dare cross me." The ease with which he made the claim, his voice light, airy, yet matter-of-fact, I was inclined to believe him. Besides, human minds were the ones I could read, which made for a far easier investigation. "This arrangement is agreeable to you?"

I nodded again. Eric's intense eyes had a way of making speech elusive. He went on to outline his list of suspects, all humans who had access to his the money. His daytime business associate, a banker who moonlighted laundering money for the criminal elements of New Orleans, and two waitresses that had been entrusted with access to the safe, one a woman named Ginger, the other Belinda, the dark-eyed girl who had thought so ill of me when she caught me chatting with the bartender, Longshadow. Short list of suspects. It shouldn't be hard to find the thief, and I understood how Eric couldn't simply kill them. The deaths could easily be traced back to him. Besides, he wouldn't get his money back if they were dead.

I glanced at my watch out of habit, even though it didn't work. "It's getting late."

"You don't even know what time it is," Eric said with a smirk. I wondered how he knew it was broken. Acute vampire hearing, perhaps. He must have noticed the lack of ticking.

"I know enough to know it's late."

"Not too late." And I wondered why he might hint at me staying, when our business had clearly been concluded.

"I've seen enough tonight. People will begin to be suspicious if I'm in here for too long." I new well enough what most would speculate for me having a private audience with Mr. Northman at all. Best to not arouse too much attention. "I just need to get my coat," I said, glancing around the room for where Pam, the blond vampire I'd first met this evening, had stowed it.

Quicker than I'd have thought possible, Eric darted over to the coat rack and retrieved it for me. I reached out to take it, trying to not let my surprise show on my face, but I couldn't stop my mouth from dropping open when he said, "Allow me," and held it up for me to slide my arms in the sleeves. I turned away to slip it on as quickly as possible, but as I pulled the fur collar and began to button it, I felt his hands rest on my shoulders and give a slight squeeze, lingering longer than necessary.

"Thank you," I said, and turned around to face him as I continued to button up my coat, though a strange warmth was spreading through me so I felt like I didn't need it any longer. Though the touch had been brief and far from intimate, I'd forgotten how delightfully soothing it was to have someone lay their hands on me without being bombarded by their thoughts.

After Bill, it was something I'd worked very hard to forget.

"You will return tomorrow night," he said.

I nodded, risking a look over my shoulder at him. His brows were knitted together in a puzzled expression that I assumed did not often overtake his hard features.

"There's a back door here. I'll show you out." He led me through a concealed door that opened unceremoniously to the alley. I drew my collar firmly around my neck, conscious of the cold and the hungry look the vampire I'd agreed to work for shot me.

"Goodnight, Sookie," he said, and for the last time that night, I nodded, and walked towards the street, intent on finding my bed.

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><p>Thanks for reading! Update sometime next week.<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Thanks to those who have been reading and reviewing! I'm glad some people are enjoying this foray until a SVM noir alternate universe. I'm going to be mixing up canon events to spin my own tale, so if you think you know what's going to happen...you're in for a surprise ;)

Thanks to Cageyspice for cleaning this up and giving me comma lessons. She rocks.

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><p>I wasn't surprised; it wasn't like I hadn't expected it. But even though I knew it was coming, I hadn't anticipated Jason being arrested so soon. In a matter of days, rumors had turned to warrants, and he was now confined to a jail cell at the Harbour Police Station.<p>

Lafayette had roused me early with the news by banging on the front door, so I was obliged to pull on my robe and let him in after only a few hours of uneasy sleep. He gave me the news quickly and efficiently, and then promised he'd make me coffee while I got dressed.

"I reckon he'll be glad he's behind bars, as mad as you are," Lafayette said when I appeared in my most business-like ensemble with matching dagger eyes, though I was grateful for the warm cup he handed me.

"If he doesn't hang for this, I'm liable to string him up myself," I said as I blew on the steaming liquid. It was still too hot to drink.

Lafayette fought a smile, but I caught it twitching at the corner of his mouth. Even as entertaining as he found my anger with Jason, decorum dictated that he should suppress his amusement. Despite his love of rouge and lipstick and his low class job, he was most certainly a gentleman. I took a long drink of my coffee, in too much of a hurry to care that I was burning my tongue.

"I'll walk you to the station," he offered as I slid my arms into my coat.

I waited until after I'd pulled on my gloves to respond, carefully weighing the comfort of his company versus the risk. "No, getting me up to give me the news and making me coffee was more than enough help. And Sam will know if you've spent all morning with me instead of chopping vegetables in his kitchen."

"Ah, Sam'd understand. And if it were in your service, he wouldn't mind me neglecting my duties at all. He'd probably even give me a bonus."

"What do you mean?" I asked, catching his arm by his wrist.

He smiled sheepishly, and then shrugged his shoulders in resignation. "You know he's sweet on you, Sookie. Shoulda seen him last night, buzzing around like a horsefly, hoping you'd show up. You know, you could do worse than him. He's a fair, decent man, and watching him unload crates of whiskey is as refreshing as a cold drink of water on a hot summer day," he said, pulling his hand out of my grip and instead linking arms with me to escort me down the stairs. I hastily pulled out of his embrace to escape his thoughts as we stepped onto the sidewalk.

"I've got to be off now," I said, ignoring his pointed look and comment about Sam. Sam was a good man, which was all the more reason for me to stay away. I'd cheated death once; it was only a matter of time before my number was really up. There was no reason to involve Sam in my troubled life.

"Well, come back soon, Sookie. You certainly do help keep things interesting 'round here," Lafayette said, before dropping the corners of his mouth in an exaggerated pout. "I'd miss you if somethin' bad were to happen to you."

It was nice to know at least one person would miss me if I turned up dead. "You're the one who brings the color and the flavor to the Quarter," I said, venturing a smile despite the grim job ahead of me.

I waited all morning to be admitted to visit Jason once I reached the police station, enduring an uncomfortable chair and the mental laments of the secretary who thought it was tragic such a good-looking boy as Jason hadn't had enough sense to marry a good-natured girl like her. I was inclined to agree with the frumpy brunette. Though she was a bit dowdy, I had a feeling she'd have been able to keep Jason out of trouble.

"Oh, Sookie!" Jason said once the officer sat him down in a chair across from me, his hands still cuffed.

"Didn't think I'd just leave you in here to rot, did you?"

"I didn't do it, I promise." Jason's voice was so country, full of twang, his face so innocent and mischievous all at once, it was hard to take anything he said seriously. Though he was three years my senior, he still looked so boyish.

"I thought they were picking me up because I helped some guys down at the docks unload some cargo before I realized it was bricks of reefer. But when they brought me in for questioning, they started asking about these girls, 'did I know them?' I said 'well yeah, I knew 'em,' and they got me to admit I knew 'em quite well, but I kept explainin' that I never once paid for the pleasure of their company. And then they told me that every last one of 'em was dead!"

"Well, I hoped you shut up then!" But it was hardly all Jason's fault. Though I thought he was stupid for getting involved with women of unsavory associations and illegal activities like smuggling, he hadn't killed anyone.

"You can help me, right, Sookie?" Jason said, sounding both contrite and frightened.

"I'm gonna try." I said, reaching over to pat him on the hand. That brief touch was enough to broadcast my brother's confusion, fear, and innocence. "I'll do my best," I added before the guard took him away, since our time limit up.

As I stepped out into the cold a figure stepped out of the shadows to greet me.

"My dear, you look to be in considerable distress," the portly man said. "Trouble with the law?"

"Not my own. A misunderstanding about my brother," I replied vaguely. For one thing, I knew better than to trust strangers; for another, I wasn't picking up a human brain signature from this man, but he wasn't out of tune like Sam or an empty void like a vampire. He was something else. Something supernatural. And something rare, if I'd never met another like him.

"I'm a lawyer." Well, maybe that explained his opaque mind. "And a damn good one at that. I'd like to offer to take up your brother's case. Pro bono." He laid his hands on his rotund belly and quirked one bushy eyebrow at me, as if challenging me to deny his offer.

"Without even knowing what it is?"

"Didn't say I didn't know, did I?" He laughed, warm and round.

I eyed him skeptically. "Why would you do that? Help an accused serial killer for free?" There had to be some kind of catch. In all likelihood the real killer had sent him to sabotage Jason's defense. That scenario was certainly more probable than help from a kindly stranger.

"I'm an old friend of your grandfather's," he explained in an even, matter-of-fact tone.

I couldn't help but scoff at the absurdity of such a claim. "Now I know you're either crazy or a liar. My grandpa was an old farmer who died years ago, before the crash. Hard to believe a man who never went farther than 10 miles from the place he was born knew a fancy city lawyer." I stepped to the side, hurrying up the sidewalk to catch the St. Charles streetcar, but what the lawyer said next stopped me in my tracks.

"It's amazing, the things that one will believe, even in the face of all evidence to the contrary," he said with a jolly laugh. He glided up beside me again, then handed me a small card with his name on it. It was a white rectangle small enough to fit in the palm of my hand and it looked like an old-fashioned gentleman's visiting card I'd read about in a book once. But this seemed to be more of a business introduction. This man, surely, couldn't have any personal designs on me. He was easily twice my age, judging by the faint tips of gray in his sideburns, and his demeanor was more fatherly than predatory.

"Mr. Cataliades, at your service," he said, bowing formally. "Call on me if you change your mind. Or find yourself —" he looked thoughtfully up at the sky, where a lone bird was swooping down from a nearby tree, his eyes following its line of flight until it landed on a nearby roof before meeting mine with a significant look. "—in need of an ally." He tipped his hat toward me, and then turned and walked away.

I ran my fingers over the embossed name, trying to sound out the syllables as he had when he'd given me his name, stumbling over the vowels in my head. The clattering of the approaching streetcar helped shake the worry over my strange encounter with the lawyer and focus on what was important—finding the true killer and clearing Jason's name. There wasn't time to spend analyzing his ludicrous claims about knowing my Grandaddy Earl or the strange chill I'd felt when he'd warned me against having too much faith, something I was rarely accused of anymore.

Night came early in winter, and I didn't have long until I was due to return to Death Warmed Over to continue my investigation. I hoped in addition to identifying Mr. Northman's thief, I'd be able to identify the killer the papers were calling the "Midnight Romeo."

"Well, hello again," Pam the vampire said as she let me into the club. "Don't you look ravishing tonight?" she added with a sultry glance, clearly admiring my business suit. "Where did you get this? The satin is fabulous." She reached up to finger the collar of my blouse.

"Don't touch me again," I said as pleasantly as I could while still remaining firm.

"Or what, you'll stake me?" Pam challenged, though her eyes sparkled with amusement.

"You wouldn't be the first," I said, matching her baleful smile, even as the memory of my hand driving a splinter of wood through the dead flesh of a vampire flickered through my mind. Killing anyone, even someone who had been dead for centuries, isn't something you can forget.

Pam broke into a loud guffaw, her voice ringing against the empty walls of the bar before she took a moment to compose herself. "I knew I was going to like you, Sookie. Now come on. Eric and his bookie are waiting."

In Eric's office there was a plump man with a combover sitting nervously at a small table. Eric stood behind the empty chair across from him.

"Good evening, Sookie," he said, and I nodded in greeting, but didn't speak. "This is Bruce, who helps with the banking for my various businesses. Bruce, Sookie is going to ask you some questions."

"Not with you all standing around," I replied.

"Excuse me?" Eric said, raising an eyebrow, daring me to challenge him.

"Do you remember our agreement, Mr. Northman? I'm to do this my way. I can't work with spectators." Bruce was squirming in his chair and sweat was breaking out on his brow as he wondered why he'd been summoned to meet with some strange blond girl. He figured I must be some kind of sorceress. I was surprised and a little flattered that he found me just as scary as Pam and Eric.

My attention turned from my interrogation subject to Eric. "Pam will leave. I will stay." He crossed his forearms in front of his chest, clearly intending to stand his ground.

Compromise was obviously not something that came naturally to Eric, so I relented. "As long as you're silent."

He just stared back at me, our eyes locked in a silent battle of wills. The only sound in the room was Bruce's irregular wheezing.

After several moments Eric nodded. Pam left without saying a word, and after the door clicked shut, Eric said, "Begin."

"Hi, Bruce. My name's Sookie," I said, giving the paunchy man the warmest smile I could muster. "I'm not going to hurt you, but I want you to lay your arm on the table, and I'm going to put my hand on your wrist."

He looked from me to Eric, who I knew was watching our interaction from behind me even though I tried to ignore his presence. This is why I'd wanted to interrogate him by myself; no one wants to confess to the one they've betrayed, whether it's a cheating spouse or a thieving employee. Plus, it's just much easier to command a person's full attention and pick out his or her thoughts if you're the only other person in the room. That was why I liked to work alone, but I hadn't wanted to waste time fighting Eric.

Though I couldn't see his face now, the look he was giving Bruce must have been intimidating enough, because he immediately complied and extended his hand across the table. His bristly hair was rough and damp under my skin, but I didn't hesitate to grip his arm firmly. Touch has always amplified my ability to read minds, even more than all the training Bill did with me when he'd first learned of my gift.

"Bruce," I said, my voice low, calm, and non-threatening. "I'm going to ask you a few questions, and you need to answer me honestly. I'll know if you're lying. Do you understand?"

He nodded, and I could feel his pulse quicken underneath my thumb. "Okay. You must know why you're here. You're the one who brought the missing money to Eric's attention, correct?"

"Yes, but I didn't take his money," he wheezed out between shallow breaths. _Which is why I can't figure out why he thinks I'm the one who took it! If I were stealing from him, why would I tell him the money's missing! _

Clearly Bruce was no criminal mastermind. Being the first to "discover" a crime is one of the oldest tricks in the books thieves use to deflect suspicion. I'd bet even odds he was doing it if I were a betting woman and didn't have the benefit of access to his thoughts. But I wasn't gambler, and I could tell he hadn't been the one to embezzle from Eric. But that didn't mean he didn't know who did.

"It's a lot of money, Bruce. If you aren't the one that's been taking it, how did it take you so long to notice the books didn't exactly add up?"

_That's what I can't understand! It's like I can't remember anything! Any time I look at the numbers it makes me dizzy. Any time I try to add them up, I lose count._

He'd eventually been so distraught he'd asked his wife to help him. Lillian was her name, and she had beautiful orange hair and freckles and made the best pancakes he'd ever tasted. Sometimes it's odd, the small details and memories that fire through people's synapses under extreme stress. He'd been so ashamed to admit to her what he was doing, and that he thought he was losing his mind.

_Bobby and Heather. No matter what happens to me, just take care of them, Lord, that is all I ask..._

So the man had kids. Two. A boy and a girl. 10 and 12, both with his same dull, brown eyes. I could see them in his thoughts. If I hadn't been here to interrogate him, how would Eric have gotten this information out of him? It struck me as odd that he would have sought my assistance without first trying to glamour him.

"I don't know," he whimpered, his voice squeaking like a rat's.

But, as I sat sifting through Bruce's thoughts, it became clear why that method hadn't worked. Bruce had already been glamoured, and quite extensively. Though he couldn't understand why his head started to swim whenever he looked at Eric's balance sheets, it was obvious to me he'd been programmed to think that way. All memories associated with transactions he'd conducted on behalf of his businesses had been tampered with.

"So, Bruce, you're telling me you honestly don't know who took Eric's money, but it definitely wasn't you?"

His hand turned to grasp mine, his eyes meeting my own. He figured I was some sort of witch, something even worse than what Eric was, and he thought he was an agent of Satan. But he knew enough to know I was his only hope of convincing Eric of his innocence, so when he said, "Yes, it's the truth! You've got to believe me." I did.

"Thank you, Bruce," I said, pulling my hand out of his grasp. I stood from the chair, wiping my hand on my tweed skirt to get Bruce's sweat off my palm. I turned to face Eric and said, "He didn't do it, and he doesn't know who did."

Eric's face was stoic, his bright blue eyes betraying no hint of emotion. He looked at me for several moments as if weighing my words. Then Pam entered the office briskly as if she had been summoned, and I understood their relationship, and why Eric knew for certain she hadn't been the one to betray him.

Bill hadn't told me a lot about vampires. Most of what I'd come to know about his kind I'd learned on my own. But if Bill had taught me anything about vampires and their relationship with those that sired them, it was that the maker was unequivocally the master of his or her child. No wonder he didn't suspect Pam of betraying him. She was his.

"Take care of him, then bring in Belinda," Eric said to Pam, who was showing out Bruce, his name now cleared.

Fortunately, we didn't have to call in someone to mop below his seat, but I think it had been a close call.

"She hasn't shown up yet," Pam replied.

A scowl crossed Eric's face, but then he turned to me and smiled slightly. "You must want a break," he said. "I imagine your secret interrogation method must be quite taxing. Have a drink, and I'll work until she arrives. Then we can see what she knows."

Pam led me to a seat at the bar, then walked Bruce outside before she returned to her post near the door. I was certain she'd removed all his memories of Eric and his business for good, and that Eric had an opening for a new personal banker willing to launder money for a man who'd been dead for only God knew how long.

Longshadow wasn't on bar duty tonight, so I took the opportunity to make small talk with the substitute bartender. Even vampires must get a night off. I wondered if his absence had anything to do with Belinda's late arrival but thought it better not to ask Pam.

I idly sipped my water, sifting through the thoughts of the crowd, hoping to pick up a clue about the Midnight Romeo, and paying special attention to girls who fit the profile of those murdered in case they would lead me to him, but I wasn't picking up much other than drunken thoughts about sex or money.

Then one man, who looked like he was trying way too hard to blend in, caught my attention. His only companion was a mug of beer and he didn't seem to be a part of the normal crowd. It was unlikely that someone would stumble into this place for a glass of ale. His thoughts were nervous, as if he were in uneasy state of alertness. Then I caught the reason.

_Backup better get here quick. Never volunteering to make an undercover bust again… Damn the promotion the director's holding over my head. That blond at the door scares the shit out of me, even if she is just a woman, and if I have to wait much longer for that big man to come out of the back, I'll call it off and the team can come back another._

A flash of an image flickered through his mind— a badge. Suddenly I realized this man must be a special agent for the Justice Department, one who worked to enforce alcohol tax laws now that Prohibition had ended.

So there was going to be a raid. Any minute.

Though I wasn't sure exactly the nature of Eric's business here, I was sure it wasn't entirely legal. Little though I cared about his livelihood, my work here was the only chance of a lead clearing my brother's name. The Feds descending on Death Warmed Over was the last thing I needed.

As quickly as I could manage in the crowd, I made my way to Pam. "See that man, there?" I discreetly nodded towards the mustachioed man in an ill-fitting suit, drinking his beer, alone.

"Not really my type," she replied, her voice deadly sarcastic.

"As disappointed as I'm sure he'd be to find that out, he's a Federal Agent, and there's about to be a raid. But I'm sure it's all just a misunderstanding. Surely you pay all your taxes and have all the proper licenses to sell liquor?"

Her eyes turned as black as her soul before she replied in a low, urgent voice. "Go tell Eric, and get out the back door. _Now_."

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><p>Thanks for reading! Update next week.<p> 


	4. Chapter 4

Thanks to Cageyspice for editing. If you haven't yet read it, check out her story Dead Rising. It was nominated for a Fangreader's award!

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

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><p>"<em>Go. Now."<em> Pam's words echoed in my head as I pushed through the crowd. I wanted out of the building as soon as possible. Whatever was to come about as a result the raid, I didn't want to be any part of it.

If law enforcement actually confronted Eric or Pam, I wondered what would happen. Would handcuffs hold them? Would they fight back? Or would they get thrown in cells where they'd die for the day? Would the vampires slaughter the whole lot of officers, then glamour all the witnesses? That seemed more likely, and would result in more damage to innocent people. Escape was surely the best option for all involved, and I hoped we'd manage to get out without confrontation.

That didn't mean I had any idea what to say to Eric. Pam had accepted my word without asking for much evidence or explanation, but I was afraid Eric wouldn't be so quick to believe me.

When I burst through the door, I found him resting his head on the butt of one of his hands as he leaned over his desk. His other wrist moved in quick, elegant gestures, writing hurriedly across a large notebook. He had rolled up his shirtsleeves to the elbow, revealing more of his white skin than I'd seen before. His tie was loosened at the collar, and his blond hair, no longer concealed by his hat, framed his face.

"Eric!" I said with exasperation, but he only held up a finger to me, intent on committing his thoughts to ink before acknowledging me. Since I hadn't prepared a speech yet, I took the moment to collect my thoughts. All too soon, he set his pen aside and looked up at me.

"Yes, Sookie." His eyes flitted from my face to my shoes, then back up again. "Belinda has finally arrived?"

"No—we have to leave. _Now_." He stood and looked up at me, and I grabbed his arm, trying to pull him towards the exit. But of course vampires don't follow just because you tug on their sleeve, and he didn't budge. In exasperation, I said, "there's going to be a raid! G-men!"

My meaning finally sank in, and I saw him decide I was telling the truth, and then resolve to act now and ask questions later. With uncanny vampire speed, he grabbed my hand, wrenching me so hard I thought my arm might have pulled out from the socket, and dragged me toward the door. He grabbed his jacket and overcoat on our way out the back entrance and then we were suddenly several blocks away from Death Warmed Over before he set me back down. It took a couple seconds for my stomach to catch up with the rest of my body, we'd moved so fast.

Eric had tucked us in an alcove hidden down an alley maybe three blocks from Death Warmed Over—three blocks in the opposite direction of my office—but I still recognized this particularly dark corner of the Quarter. It wouldn't have been my first choice of location to be alone with a vampire.

If I had to pick a vampire to be stuck with, Eric didn't seem the worst of choices, even if he did have me pinned against the old abandoned doorway, his eyes boring into mine. He seemed to be more motivated to keep me alive than other vampires I'd met, at least at the moment.

The moon was visible above the rooftops, a big, fat, wolf moon, glowing bright enough to illuminate the hard line of Eric's jaw, clenching as hard as his hands were on the tops of my shoulders. He leaned down so that his lips were at my ear. The loose strands of my hair brushed against my cheek as he inhaled deeply. I felt the air blow back out of his mouth and onto my neck as he spoke. "How did you know there would be raid tonight, Sookie?" His voice was even, calm, contrasting sharply with the blue flames I'd seen in his eyes just a moment ago.

Just as I was searching out the words to satisfactorily answer Eric's question so he wouldn't drain me dry, while at the same time not letting on exactly what my special skill was, I caught a particularly predatory line of thought, flashing red with warning and rushing in our direction. I assumed it was an agent in pursuit of those fleeing the bar, though the thoughts were nothing more than feeling and color rather than the words and images that the thoughts of most humans consisted of. But I didn't have time for analysis. I wasn't sure that Eric wouldn't kill an officer of the law who questioned him and I desperately wanted to avoid being a witness to that confrontation.

"Shh…" I warned, reaching out and pulling him flush against me, hoping we were invisible in the dark recesses of the wall. "Someone's coming down the alley," I said so quietly that anyone without extra-sensitive vampire hearing wouldn't have caught my words. Eric's hands tightened their grip on my shoulders and I felt his fangs brush the skin of my neck as they descended. The only sound was my breath and the clop of boots moving our way, splashing in the puddles of water on the uneven ground.

"Hey! You there!" Our pursuer had spotted us in the shadows.

Eric's hips dug further into mine, and I felt the relief of a sigh before he turned away from me to face him, though one hand still gripped my arm.

"Indecency, is what this is," he said as he raised a pistol to us. "An abomination!"

Then everything happened more quickly than I could comprehend; as if in slow motion I saw the man who was definitely not an agent or a cop cock his weapon. He closed one eye as if winking at me, and an eerily familiar smile curled his lips before he fired.

Though he had very deliberately aimed his weapon at me, it was Eric that took the hit and the gunman who didn't live to tell the story. Eric withdrew a crude metal shank from the breast pocket of his jacket and drove it into the man's gut seconds after taking the bullet, which hadn't seemed to cause more than a mild discomfort when it'd lodged itself in his chest. Our attacker collapsed on the gravel of the alley.

There was a growing red stain on Eric's shirt. He pulled it open, exposing the wound. "I took this bullet for you, Sookie. The least you can do it get it out. Put your mouth over the wound and suck."

Ignoring the dead man lying face down on the gravel, I turned to Eric. "No!"

"Don't be squeamish now, Sookie." He lowered his eyes to me, and I felt the tickle of his attempt to glamour me, which was unsuccessful yet again.

"That bullet is already working its way out. But if you want me to dig it out with my finger, I will." Squeamish had nothing to do with why I wouldn't suck that bullet out. I didn't know everything about how you became a vampire or what exactly the ritual or act that caused it was, but I knew part of it was drinking their blood, and the last thing I wanted was to be a vampire. But before he could answer, the hunk of metal had pushed its way out of his flesh and fallen into my waiting palm. "See? You must think I'm stupid, if you thought I'd willingly take the blood of a random vampire."

Eric glared menacingly at me for a moment, and then said something so low and gruff that I didn't catch his words. He picked up his trench coat and draped it over my shoulders. He turned to face me, his figure silhouetted by the light of the moon. "What are you?"

"I'm Sookie Stackhouse," I said, though his question hadn't been 'who'.

Eric just laughed wryly as he began buttoning up his bloody shirt. "I'll see you home. I assume you've had enough excitement for tonight."

"What about the body?" I asked, but as I glanced down, I saw that disposal might not be a problem. Unlike a vampire, who flakes away as if turning to ash, this body was disintegrating into a glittery pile of nothing. "Never mind," I added, wondering exactly what sort of supernatural creature had attacked us.

"Come on. Let's go," he said, hooking his arm around my back and pressing me into his side as he led me down the alley.

I started to tell him to get his hands off me, but then I realized he was using me to cover the blood on his side. We attracted enough attention as it was, with Eric's impressive height and head-turning good looks. Any evidence of a substantial wound would draw unwanted stares, but it was hidden where my body was flush against his. Luckily, as I had Eric's large trench around me, my good suit was safe from residual blood.

I had to focus on walking in order to keep up with Eric and his long legs, so it was fortunate that he didn't try to make conversation on our stroll home. When we got to the bottom of my stairs I tried to pull away, but he walked right up behind me.

"Why are you following me?" I asked.

"We need to talk."

Right. He hadn't forgotten about his earlier questions even though we'd been attacked during his interrogation. Apparently being shot at wouldn't allow me to escape his inquiries after all. I pulled my lip between my teeth, chewing on it as I weighed my options. I hadn't rescinded Eric's invitation after he'd left last night, so he could still follow me into my office even though I technically lived there. I also didn't think he'd leave without some answers, and I didn't want to have this conversation on my front stoop.

"Alright. Business only, and it has to be quick."

"For a second I thought you were worried about what the man in the alley thought of you inviting in a strange man in the middle of the night."

I craned my neck and stood on my tiptoes so I could peer over Eric's shoulder. Sam was definitely taking his sweet time bringing out the night's garbage, drawing out the task long enough to make it clear he was lingering to watch my conversation with Eric.

"No, my hesitation doesn't have anything to do with him." I looked Eric over, then realized that he could have already killed me if that had been his intention. Besides, I was interested in his thoughts on why we'd been attacked in the alley and who might have tipped off the Feds about his illegal bar. "You can come in, but it has to be quick." I turned to unlock my door, but a large hand covered mine, the other resting atop mine on the knob, and expertly guided me to unlock my troublesome deadbolt. It did not escape my notice that Eric's hands lingered over my own. As careful as I was to avoid touching people, the sensation of skin on skin was heightened for me, and I wasn't unhappy that I wasn't wearing my gloves.

"Thank you," I said. "It always sticks."

Eric didn't reply as he followed me effortlessly over the threshold into the small office at the front of my apartment. As I was shedding his coat, he noticed the small white rectangle on the side table in the entranceway. It was Mr. Cataliades card, hastily abandoned when I'd come home after meeting the strange lawyer outside my brother's jail cell. That whole ordeal felt as if it was ages ago, though it was only this afternoon.

"You know the demon lawyer?" Eric asked, looking at me with suspicion and disbelief.

"No, I only met him today, while I was downtown on a legal matter. He gave me his card and offered his services, should I ever need them. Why do you ask? Are you acquainted with the lawyer? And by 'demon', did you mean that metaphorically, or am I to interpret that literally?"

That most disconcerting smile curled the corners of his lips. "I only know him by reputation. And he is a demon, quite literally, I'm afraid, though obviously his heritage is mixed enough for him to pass as human. I believe his mother was only half-demon." Without an invitation, Eric sat on the worn sofa, stretching his long legs out in front of him and crossing them at the ankles.

I hung his coat on the rack by the door. As there was no other available seating except for my desk chair, which was too far across the room for comfortable conversation, I reluctantly sat next to Eric, though I was careful to leave a cushion's worth of room between us. I smoothed over my blouse and checked my skirt for damage while I contemplated Eric's revelation that the lawyer I'd met earlier had been part demon. It explained the supernaturalness I had detected but couldn't place, not to mention his peculiarly dense thoughts.

Eric interrupted my reverie with another question. "What was the legal matter that prompted you to cross paths with Mr. Cataliades?"

"Another case," I said, afraid that although my face would be free from emotion Eric would have heard the extra thump of my heart. Before he could continue this line of questioning, I spoke. "Someone must have alerted the authorities to the presence of your bar."

This question seemed to effectively distract Eric. His anger was evident in the tight line on his jaw and the clenching of his fist, resting on the back edge of the sofa where his arm extended across the space between us. "Yes. And I am going to find out who is responsible. You are going to help."

"I don't see how that is part of our original agreement."

"It is rather obvious that the raid was timed to delay your interrogations. It is certainly relevant to your investigation." It was then that I realized this simple theft was a far bigger scheme than I had anticipated. And that I would never be able to refuse a request from Eric again. I'd been foolish to agree to work for a vampire. So far, it'd nearly gotten me arrested, then killed, and I was no closer to finding the true Midnight Romeo or clearing my brother's name.

"Do you know who attacked us in the alley?" I asked. Perhaps more important that either Jason's or Eric's current predicament was that someone in New Orleans apparently wanted me dead, and I had no idea why.

"You mean who meant to kill _you_? Haven't the faintest idea, sweetheart. Know anyone holding a grudge against you?"

I sighed, long and loud. That list wasn't short, and I had no means of limiting my list of suspects, though I had a hunch it was somehow connected to either Jason's predicament or my latest client. "Hard to say."

"Indeed." Eric didn't seem to be paying attention to my words any longer, however. His eyes were entranced with my neck. He licked his lips, and I noticed his tongue run across the very tip of a fang.

"Why did you try to get me to drink your blood?" I blurted out.

That got Eric's attention again. "Why are you so sure that was my goal?"

"You're not the first vampire I've met, Mr. Northman," I responded coyly. No need to divulge my romantic past.

"Is that so? Then perhaps, considering I took a bullet for you tonight, you would be so kind as to offer me a refreshment in return?" He reached out toward me so his fingers grazed my neck, trailing lightly along the vein until they rested momentarily on my pulse. "I lost a deal of blood tonight in your defense, you can see."

"Certainly not," I said, firmly and resolutely.

"Very well then, we'll just have to see what sort of ladies Storyville might be offering."

I wondered how long Eric must have been in New Orleans, to refer to the red light district in such an antiquated fashion. Though the palaces along Basin Street were officially shut down, there was still a bedlam of illegal activity on that edge of the Quarter. And I didn't suppose Eric would be visiting that particular neighborhood to bet on cockfights.

Then it suddenly occurred to me that Eric Northman could very well be the Midnight Romeo himself. He obviously frequented the same haunts as Jason. It was quite possible he'd been the one leaving dead blondes about the Quarter, drained of their blood with their brains bashed in. Though I wouldn't have thought Eric so careless, I didn't really know him at all.

I took care to be sure that no evidence of my revelation showed on my face. "I wish you … luck," I said, not sure what the appropriate response to such a comment was. Eric stood from the sofa, donned his long trench, which effectively hid his bloody shirt. I stood to see him out.

"We will resume our investigation tomorrow night," he said, and gave one last long, regretful look at my throat.

"Goodnight, Eric," I said, as he walked out the door.

"Goodnight, Sookie," he replied. I closed the door, turned the deadbolt, and murmured a withdrawal of his invitation, just in case.


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks for reading and reviewing! And thanks to Cageyspice for editing. She rocks, especially at fixing my stray commas and paragraph breaks.

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><p>For the third day in a row, I awoke to an unexpected knock on the front door of my office and staggered out of the tiny bedroom in my robe to answer it. A white envelope on the floor interrupted my path.<p>

"Sookie!" yelled my unwanted visitor as she banged on my door. But it was only Amelia, so I paused to retrieve and open my unexpected correspondence. She'd kept me waiting on more than one occasion.

The cardstock was plain and slightly yellowed with age. The note was neither addressed nor signed, but I had no doubt as to either the sender or the intended recipient. In neat, swift strokes, the following command was penned: "I will meet you here tonight after sundown. You will then tell me everything I wish to know".

I huffed at his presumptuousness as I pictured him at his desk, sleeves rolled up and forehead resting on his palm, writing a note, sliding the card into the envelope, and licking the seal. Though, of course, he wouldn't have been sitting at his desk, not after last night's raid. Then he would have walked back to my front stoop and slipped the letter underneath the door. I was extra glad I'd rescinded his invitation before going to bed.

I didn't have time to dwell on the content of the note because Amelia was still demanding entrance.

"Sookie! Open up! I can see your shadow. It's cold out here!"

I turned the tricky lock and admitted my witchy friend.

"I almost did a spell to raise the dead!" she said as she strode in without issuing a greeting. "Really, you can't possibly be sleeping so late."

"Good morning … er, afternoon to you too, Amelia," I said. "I was working quite late last night which is why I was still in bed."

"Well at least you're still alive." Amelia sat on my sofa and pulled off her hat and gloves.

I just shrugged my shoulders and went to my desk to stash my not-so-anonymous letter. I'd have to take today one problem at a time. "Yes, I'm very much alive," I replied, knowing full well it was only due to Eric's timely bullet-shielding that I remained so. I shuddered, remembering the sound of the gun firing, the bullet penetrating Eric's flesh, and the pile of glittery dust left in the dark alley eight blocks away after he'd killed the creature.

I'd feel much more alive after a cup of coffee, so I was thrilled when Amelia suggested I clean myself up and get dressed so we could go down to Sam's for a late lunch, her treat. Half an hour later we were sliding into a bench in the corner diner and being waited on by the owner himself.

"Well, ladies, what can I get for you?" Sam asked, smiling with the faintest hint of a blush.

"Oh, well, can you tell us the specials?" Amelia asked. She looked at me pointedly when Sam didn't turn his eyes toward her but left them fixed on me.

"Well …" Sam rattled off what the kitchen was serving, but I avoided eye contact, busying myself stirring sugar into my coffee and stifling a yawn.

"I'll have Lafayette's gumbo," I said, having not heard anything he said. I'd been so intent on blocking out Sam's thoughts I'd missed his words as well.

"You were up awful late last night, or should I say early this morning? Do you always work those hours? It was well after midnight before I saw you head home, and still later until I saw your last client leave."

"The nature of my business requires I be open to the unforeseen," I said as diplomatically as I could. As well intentioned as I'm sure my neighbor was, I didn't owe him any explanation and wasn't exactly comforted that he spied on me.

"That man you were with, I've heard of him … Northman, right? I'd steer clear of that one, Cher … not anyone a lady should be dealing with." Sam had never objected to the deadbeats I took on as clients and I didn't think he could know that Eric Northman was _actually_ dead, so I had to think his objections were more to do with his obvious good looks than his character.

"I can take care of myself, Sam, but I appreciate your concern," I replied, then sipped my hot coffee.

"I'll have the po' boy," Amelia said, ignoring the tension in the air. Sam nodded before retreating to the kitchen to turn our order in.

"So, spill. Any news on your brother's case? And what about you working for the vampire? Is that the client Sam saw you let in your office?" Amelia was never one to beat around the bush.

"Jason swears he didn't do it, and I believe him. I may have a lawyer willing to work on his defense, should it go to trial. I'm hoping to avoid that. My new case? Well, it's turning out to be more complicated than I had originally anticipated."

Amelia raised a skeptical eyebrow at me. "You thought working for a vampire was going to be easy? You of all people, Sookie Stackhouse, should know how much trouble vampires can be."

She was right, and I stiffened a little remembering all the trouble I'd gotten into just for loving a vampire.

When Bill had walked into Bon Temps one night, his had been the first mind I'd met that was quiet. Being with him was so calming, I'd felt a previously unknown peace. I'd have been attracted to him even if he hadn't had dark good looks to go with his dark mind. So, unsurprisingly, I'd fallen madly, hopelessly in love. It hadn't even mattered when I'd found out he was a vampire. Who was I to judge someone for being different?

And then he'd gone and run off with his maker, who'd tortured him within an inch of his life. Even though I'd rescued him and killed his sire in the process, we'd split up, for good, when I found out the depth of his darkness and his capacity for violence and betrayal. And I'd sworn off love and vampires ever since.

"One would hope," I said. Though I wasn't sure what exactly the lesson was that I was supposed to have learned from that experience.

"I never thought you'd agree to work for a vampire, Sookie. Not after what happened …" But I could tell that Amelia actually did worry that I'd be sucked back into their world, knowing how attractive their silent minds might be to a telepath.

"You know I only agreed to take the case to save my brother." Which was going to be a lot less likely now that I had no way of investigating the vampire crowd at Death Warmed Over. Even if Eric and Pam had managed to avoid arrest for their underground, illegal bar, I didn't imagine it would be opening again any time soon. And I had no other leads.

"Here you go," the cheerful waitress said. Apparently Sam didn't want to wait on us anymore, since he'd sent her to deliver our food. I didn't hesitate to dig into my gumbo, so it was several minutes before Amelia dropped her bomb on me.

"I read in the papers there was a raid on an illegal bar at the corner of Dauphine and St. Peter last night," she said.

I almost choked on my spicy stew. "The papers?" I said.

"That was why I was so concerned when I couldn't get you to answer the door. I thought they'd thrown you in jail!"

And I'd been so surprised that Amelia was reading the papers. "We got out in time. But I didn't find out anything useful." I didn't want to alarm Amelia unnecessarily by recounting the incident in the alley where we were shot at by some unidentified supernatural.

"We?"

"Eric—Mr. Northman, I mean—you know, my client."

"Eric? You call him 'Eric'?"

"It's his name."

"And he's the one Sam saw in your office late last night?" Her voice took on an accusatory tone, obviously insinuating something unprofessional had happened.

"Well, we couldn't very well discuss his case in his office, what with it being ransacked by federal agents at the time," I said.

Amelia narrowed her eyes at me. "You like him."

"What? No." My stomach lurched. Lafayette had been a little heavy handed with his Cajun spice mix.

"You do. Admit it," she charged, dramatically crossing her arms in front of her chest after setting her fork aside.

"Amelia! That's absurd."

"Then why are you blushing?"

"It's warm in here. Plus the spicy stew."

"At least concede you find him attractive."

I rolled my eyes. "Of course, he's gorgeous. Have you ever met an ugly vampire?"

"Well, you have a point there," she said with a laugh. "But seriously, Sookie, be careful. I know you're the mind-reader and all, but sometimes I think you've gotten so used to blocking out the thoughts of others, you silence your own inner thoughts, too."

Luckily, that line of questioning was brought to an end with the return of our waitress. Amelia paid for our lunch, as promised, and wished me good luck before hastily returning to her shop and leaving me to worry about my meeting with Eric Northman for the rest of the day.

Unlike my afternoon visitor, Mr. Northman's knock was quick and efficient, and unlike earlier, I was ready and waiting. I wondered how he'd gotten dressed so quickly after sunset, when it had take me the better part of the afternoon to look presentable. Selecting an outfit when I did not know the evening's agenda was rather difficult, but considering my brush with death last night, I opted for a simply cut dress in a bold pattern with sensible shoes rather than the heels I'd struggled to run in last night. No amount of face powder was going to hide my tired, dark eyes so I'd hoped full, red lips would compensate.

Eric was in another impeccable suit, complete with vest and tie and a wide brimmed hat. His breast pocket held a square of silk, blood red, the only hint of color in the otherwise black and white ensemble. If he weren't so masculine, the getup might have been almost dandy.

I swallowed. Amelia was right.

"Good evening, Sookie," he said. He made to step past me and was hindered by the magical barrier that kept vampires out of a human's home

"Do come in, Mr. Northman," I said, waving him in.

He strode in, nonplussed. "I take it you rested well?" he said as he tipped his hat to me. Given the proclivity to violence of most vampires, one might expect them to be ill mannered, but, in my experience, they are quite the opposite, especially if they want something from you. Eric was no exception.

"Certainly. And I take it you were able to find refreshment last evening? I'm sure the saloons off St. Louis serve late every night," I replied in my practiced tone meant to impart Southern hospitality, though I doubt my grandmother would have thought baiting a vampire about his feeding habits was good manners.

"I detest whores and brothels, and much prefer hunting for my dinner to buying it if a willing donor isn't readily available. But even a vampire as old as I can't be choosy after healing from a bullet wound."

"As charming as this line of conversation is, Mr. Northman, I don't believe it's why you are here. Please, have a seat," I said, directing him to the chair I'd placed in front of my desk. I sat behind it, comforted by the barrier between us.

"So you got my note." He flashed me a brilliant smile. I fought to keep myself from returning it. "And please—call me Eric."

"Since none of my other clients would make such bold demands or have such elegant penmanship, I assumed it was you."

"I took you for a woman who appreciated directness." He wetted his lips with the tip of his tongue as his eyes flickered over my body as if outlining my form.

"Yes, that's true. So, why don't we get down to business then? What is it that you want to know?"

"Tell me how you came to know about vampires. Our kind does not generally reveal their nature to humans. Pam mentioned you told her you'd staked a vampire."

"How is this relevant to my investigation?"

"I need to know I can trust you."

"Why should I trust you?"

"Because I have not killed you or harmed you in any way, though I've had ample opportunity."

I couldn't argue with that claim. Though I still wasn't sure how Eric had heard of my reputation or what had prompted him to seek my services, he hadn't done anything to harm me. Quite the opposite—he'd taken a bullet for me and killed my attacker. Besides, the story of how I'd come to know the undead still walk the earth wasn't all that exciting.

"A dark stranger came into my town, a man I knew was different from any other man I'd ever known. He was the first vampire I ever met."

Apparently, no matter how vague my story was, Eric could read between the lines. "Am I to presume you formed a romantic liaison with this vampire?"

"You may presume whatever you like." I smiled sweetly at him.

Eric leaned forward, resting his elbows on the edge of my desk. "And is he the vampire you killed?"

"No. It was his maker."

Eric's eyes widened, ever so slightly, which I only noticed because I was refusing to be the first to break our mutual stare. "Sookie, you are full of surprises." He shook his head back and forth, laughing as if at a child saying something adult without fully understanding her meaning.

"And that's just the beginning," I said, matching his smile.

"You're right," Eric said, his amusement fading from his face as quickly as it had appeared. "I have additional questions for you. How were you able to know for sure that Bruce was telling the truth? And how did you know we were about to be raided, only moments before it happened? Tell me exactly what it is you do, Sookie Stackhouse."

At first I was going to tell Eric that he might as well be asking a lady her age or the butcher what goes in the sausage, neither of which were polite, but realized both expressions would be lost on a vampire. Instead, I challenged him. "Or what?"

"Or what?" Eric cocked an eyebrow at me. Apparently he wasn't questioned often, because he seemed unsure how to respond.

"Why should I tell you that? What difference does it make how I do what I do?"

"Because I know why you agreed to take my case. And it wasn't for the money. It was so you could try and help your brother."

"What do you know about Jason?" I matched Eric's pose, leaning forward on my desk. I couldn't stop my heart from racing. Was Eric somehow responsible for Jason being framed as the Midnight Romeo? I'd had a feeling the timing of his arrival at my office door was more than coincidence.

Eric leaned back in the leather chair, then lifted his hat with one hand while the fingers of his other combed through his hair. After spinning his hat around on his finger and catching it so it rested over his left knee, he looked up and met my eyes. "Now, you have something I want to know; I have something you want to know. And I believe you'll find that cooperating with me is far more pleasurable than the alternative." Though his tone was light and friendly, I could feel the threat just underneath his words. "That is 'what.'"

Given my ability, I'd be a natural at poker. The best card shark in New Orleans wouldn't be able to best me if I ever took a seat at his table. They say every man has a tell, but I wasn't accustomed to having to look any farther than his thoughts before making my bet. I wasn't willing to call Eric's bluff when my brother's life was on the table, so I folded.

"I'm a telepath."

Several moments of silence passed. I studied the features on Eric's face for a reaction, and found none.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, airy, almost a purr, as if he were coaxing a response out of me rather than demanding one. "Sookie, can you tell what I am thinking now?"

"No." I didn't elaborate, for fear that my voice would crack and he'd think I was lying.

"Why should I believe you?"

"The only man I was fool enough to fall in love with had fangs." I gave him a wry smile, which he quickly returned.

"You can't read the thoughts of vampires." He looked relieved at his realization, and I wondered what he was still hiding from me.

"No. Just humans. Some people better than others. I think there must be other kinds of creatures out there, walking around, pretending to be humans the way vampires do, because I can't get a good signal on them, either. Some people are just … different."

"Different, like you?"

"No. At least, I've never met another person that can do what I do. Though my friend Amelia claims to have met a psychic. I guess only time can tell if that's true." Frankly, I wasn't sure which would be worse. Seeing the future, or hearing the unedited and constant stream of the consciousness of others.

"I had a psychic once. It was incredible." The echo of the memory sounded in his voice as nostalgia swept him away from the present time and place.

"Did the psychic think so?" Judging by the tip of his extended fang that peeked out of his mouth, I thought not.

He smirked. "For a while."

I wasn't particularly amused or comforted by that admission.

"What do you know about my brother?" I demanded.

"Only that he is accused of murders he did not commit and that you care very much about exonerating him."

"That's true."

"Which is why you are going to help me find my thief. I am in a unique position to help your brother." That wasn't exactly a promise of assistance. And he wasn't telling me the whole story. There was something that still didn't quite fit together, a piece of this puzzle I still needed to find.

"Why do you care so much about finding out who stole from you? It isn't just about the money."

"You're right. It's not."

"Then why?"

Eric's eyes looked out my window, down into the streets of New Orleans below, where life danced with death each night. "The world is changing. Now is not the time to be weak."

"You can really help with my brother's situation?"

"If you solve this mystery." That was when I realized that it wasn't about the money, or Eric's honor. This was a test. I still didn't have a choice. It was too late to walk away now.

"Do you have a plan?"

"Pam is holding two of our former waitresses in a warehouse I own, since we've obviously had to close down the bar until a new location can be found. They are waiting for you to question them."

Eric was still convinced it was humans he was fighting against, and I had no evidence to disprove his theory, even if my gut told me he was overlooking some vital piece of evidence. I let out a sigh of resignation.

"Let me get my coat."


	6. Chapter 6

Greetings! Sorry I wasn't able to stick with the once a week posting. I was busier than I anticipated. I hope you enjoy this chapter even though it's late! Thanks to Cageyspice for editing.

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><p>I wasn't sure which was a bigger shock: that Eric was driving a Ford coupe that was polished to a high shine even though it must have been several years old, or that he was holding the door open for me and offering a hand to help me step inside.<p>

"Get in." He tipped his head toward the car. I might have thought he was annoyed and impatient if I hadn't already been introduced to the way his eyes sparkled with amusement even when his jaw was firmly set with apparent anger.

They were definitely twinkling now.

I laid my hand in his and was surprised when I didn't let go as soon as I landed in my seat. Our eyes locked before he released my hand and shut the door.

I shook my head. Though I didn't often have reason to ride in a car, the thought of being a passenger in a vampire's automobile was outright laughable. Bill hadn't been fond of motorized transport, and since all vampires could move much faster than something as pedestrian as a car could travel, I hadn't ever pictured any other behind the wheel. But it suited Eric, somehow. Apparently he appreciated novelty.

In less time than it took for me straighten my skirt, Eric had already climbed in beside me and turned the ignition. He winked at me as the engine came to life. "Hold on tight," he said.

Even if he was a vampire, I was still amazed at how smoothly Eric manipulated the clutch. He was switching gears effortlessly, despite how fast we were rolling down the busy streets of the Quarter. The iron beast was an extension of him, obeying his commands, submitting to his will. I shuddered slightly and forced myself to look away from his hand as it jerked around the gearshift and turned my attention to the passing scenery of the street.

Though there were people all around us walking in and out of the nightclubs and waiting for the streetcar, in the close confines of the cab, Eric and I were very much alone. It was a far more intimate setting than what I was accustomed to. As we zipped through the crowds of people making our way toward the waterfront, I felt as if I were watching a movie. The thoughts of others were nothing more than buzzes of bugs and chirps of birds or flashes of color—the way the sky and grass look while you're spinning on a merry-go-round. I caught myself smiling before I glanced back over at Eric and realized this was not some joyride. I was not out for a night on the town with a handsome, charming man. I was not supposed to be having _fun_.

"Eric?"

His eyes darted just briefly in my direction and his gaze fell on me long enough to know I had his attention.

"You never told me who sent you to my door the night before last. Who recommended you seek my services?" He hadn't answered the first time I'd asked, but I thought I'd give it another try. There was something off about the timing of this case. What had prompted Eric Northman's shadow to appear in my doorway the night before my brother was arrested? It didn't feel like a coincidence.

"I think you are more famous than you realize, Sookie Stackhouse."

"What do you mean by that?" I'd done work for a few politicians, some well-known businessmen, but I couldn't picture any of those clients spreading word about my services to anyone, and least of all a vampire. Bill hadn't mixed much with other vampires, and I'd steered clear of them since we'd parted ways. Even though I knew there were many who roamed the streets of New Orleans after dark, I didn't personally know any others, so I couldn't even hazard a guess as to who Eric and I might have in common.

"I mean, don't underestimate yourself," he glanced in my direction again, and judging by his serious expression, he wasn't trying to make a joke.

The cab suddenly felt very stuffy, the air thick and heavy. I shrugged off my coat and clumsily rolled down the window a few inches to let the breeze through the car. The fresh air made it easier to think.

"Well, if you won't submit to that line of questioning, tell me what you expect me to find for you this evening. Are you really suggesting that your waitresses are fleecing you? If they were so cunning, wouldn't they be better off robbing the drunken owners of any of the other barrelhouses in the Quarter rather than risk their lives trying to swindle a vampire? Can it be they just don't realize with whom they are dealing?" This theory just didn't work. It wasn't that I doubted my own skills; I was a damn good detective, and my talents lay in my ability to analyze the facts as much as my telepathy. But the fact was, Eric had an ulterior motive even if everything he'd told me so far was true. I needed to find out what that was.

Eric took a sharp corner and his eyes off the road as he turned to reply. "You've already ruled out Bruce. Other than my business partners, they are the only two who had any opportunity. I'd rather not kill them both, if it can be helped."

"You promised you wouldn't kill any humans," I reminded him.

The light from the streetlamps cast strange shadows on his face as we moved down Canal Street, and his eyes were obscured by the darkness. "So I did."

"I'm not convinced your thief is even human. Who are your business partners?"

"Pam, of course. She told you she was my second. We are partners in the bar with Long Shadow. You met the bartender, I believe?"

I didn't have time to answer before the Ford collided with a dark figure. Eric's arm flew out in front of me to prevent me from being thrown from the vehicle. There was a crunch of compacting metal and the shriek of breaking glass as I jerked forward. Unfortunately, when my arm shot up to protect my face, it was met with cascading shards of glass. The wheels of the car skidded to a stop; the man—or whatever it was that we had struck—got up from the pavement and scurried off into an alley, apparently unharmed.

As soon as I had sense and breath enough to speak, I turned to Eric and asked, "What the hell was that?"

A low growl escaped from him, and he wrapped his arm around me, hastily jerking me from the wrecked vehicle without acknowledging my question.

"We have to get out of here," he mumbled. "Hold on." And we dashed to a secluded area and took to the sky.

By the time I realized we were flying it was too late to protest. I closed my eyes tightly, so I wouldn't be tempted to look down, and only opened them again when my feet came to rest on solid ground. I shook off Eric's arms but was nearly toppled over before he caught me in his grasp again.

"I didn't know vampires could fly," I said. I was dizzy and disoriented and feeling not at all like my normal self. I looked down at my arm to find it covered in blood. That had to be contributing to my lightheadedness.

"We need to get you inside," he replied.

"What about your car? We can't just flee the scene of an accident!" I argued, but held back from adding that medics would have tended to my bleeding arm quite diligently.

"Oh, that wasn't my car," Eric said with a laugh.

Of course it wasn't. I hoped he'd glamoured the keys away from the owner, rather than killing him and stealing them, but I knew better than to ask.

"Come, I'll get you patched up." He swept me up in his arms bridal style before I could protest.

We'd landed on the roof of my building. I often came up here to lie in the sun and read on lazy afternoons. It was blissfully quiet, the hums of people's minds dying out as they drifted in the wind. The city was never completely silent, not even up here, but it was as close to the peace of the countryside as I'd gotten since I'd moved to New Orleans.

I didn't stop to ask how Eric knew how to climb down the fire escape and enter my bedroom. It was a relief enough to be in out of the freezing cold and inside the warm safety of my apartment.

"Where do you keep bandages?" he asked after depositing me in the chair in the corner by a small table.

I pointed Eric to my small bathroom. When he returned, I saw he'd also grabbed the bottle of whiskey from my efficiency kitchen and a clean cloth from my linen closet. I was surprised Eric knew how to clean a wound. Vampires heal rather quickly, so I wondered why he'd had the need to possess such knowledge.

"Thanks. I can take it from here," I said, wincing from the pain. The cuts weren't deep and hadn't hit any major veins, but they still stung like hell.

"There's glass embedded in your skin," Eric said, pulling my arm flat against the table, palm up, so he could examine the wounds. He knelt in front of me to get a closer look. He was so tall this put him at my eye level. "I'll have to pick them out before this gets bandaged up."

"Sorry I got blood on your shirt," was all I managed to say.

"This _is_ the second in so many nights you've ruined," Eric said with a faint smile before turning his attention back to my arm. He started to take off my watch, but I jerked my hand away.

"I've got it," I said, and pushed, but I couldn't work the clasp, my other hand was shaking so badly.

"Leave it on. I can work around it." My arm tensed. He frowned. "This is going to hurt," he said, brandishing the tweezers he'd also found among my toiletries. He looked at me with regret, but I only nodded. He scooted up closer to me and guided my good hand to his shoulder. "Squeeze if you need to; you can't hurt me."

As delicately as possible, Eric picked the shards of glass from my hand and forearm. I couldn't look at him, or my arm, while he worked, so I fixed my eyes on a crack in the plaster of the wall near the ceiling, taking full advantage of his offer to dig my other hand into the muscles of his shoulder. He didn't flinch at the pressure.

"Why do you wear a watch that doesn't work?" he asked after several moments of silence.

I bit back tears—tears that weren't completely the result of the pain of him digging tiny pieces of glass out of my arm. A human wouldn't have noticed that my watch no longer kept accurate time. And this was the second time he'd remarked about my timepiece.

"We all have our tokens, Mr. Northman," I said. I wasn't the only one who wore something for reasons beyond form or function. I'd spent enough time pressed up against Eric's chest to know he wore some sort of pointy pendant underneath his shirt—perhaps a long tooth of some kind, or maybe a talon. It certainly wasn't a utilitarian item or a fashion statement. Since my hand was already on his shoulder, it wasn't hard to reach under his collar and feel for the cord of leather. "What is it that you wear around your neck?"

His eyes narrowed at me slightly, but Eric didn't reply, and instead turned his attention back to extracting glass from my arm. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from crying, but it was too late—he'd already gotten me thinking about Gran, and I couldn't hold back any longer. I refused to let the sobs that welled in me escape, but silent tears streamed from the corners of my eyes.

"Almost done," he said as he dropped another chip of glass onto pile on the table. "But you're going to have scars," he commented as he poured whiskey on the rag and wiped down my cuts. I grimaced from the sting, but he held my arm firmly against the flat surface of the table. "I can prevent that, if you like," he suggested.

That was twice that Eric had tried to get his blood in me. I tried not to dwell on that fact. "Oh, that's not necessary. It'll match the others." This wasn't the first time I'd been injured in the line of duty. In fact, these would be minor in comparison to some of the others. Eric arched his eyebrow, urging me to elaborate, but I couldn't find the words to explain and I certainly wasn't showing him where else I had scars criss-crossing my skin.

"Want a shot of this to take the edge off?" Eric offered me the bottle.

"No thanks," I said. "I'm not much of a drinker."

"Yet you keep a bottle of whiskey under your sink. Do you have many guests?"

I snorted, very inelegantly, which earned me a small smile from Eric. "Not hardly." It was a bad sign that I was developing a catalog of his different smirks, grins, and smiles. I was definitely paying too much attention to his mouth. His lips were the slightest shade of pink contrasted with the perfect whiteness of his skin. They were full and looked too soft to belong to a vampire, even if they didn't always hide his fangs.

We were both silent as he wrapped the bandage around my arm. He was slow and deliberate about it, adjusting the thin fabric with great care.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper.

He leaned forward, and at first I thought he was going to kiss me, which would have been unexpected, if not unwelcome.

It turned out he was only interested in tasting my tears. The brush of his mouth against my cheek was tender and predatory all at once and I gasped before trying to hold myself as still as possible. When he leaned back enough to look in my eyes, his were blazing blue flames.

"It is unfortunate that we don't have more time." He paused to lick his lips. "As it is, we are already rather late. Pam is not known for her patience."

He couldn't mean that we were still going to the warehouse after what had already happened. All I wanted to do was collapse on my bed and sleep with the hope of waking to find this whole ordeal a bad dream, not go interrogate some waitresses. I hadn't even asked about the strange car accident that I was sure was no coincidence or gotten any more answers about Jason. But Eric stood and helped me to my feet. I swayed a bit, still shaking.

"Steady there," he said. "I've got you." His arm circled around my waist, and I leaned back to look into his eyes.

I couldn't refuse. Not only did I realize Eric had no intention of letting me go, my brother's life was at stake.

"You better."


	7. Chapter 7

First a reminder that I don't own the characters. That's all Charlaine Harris' property. I'd also like to apologize for the weird fanfic issues with uploading last chapter. Though I'd like to blame the website, it was probably operator error.

Thanks to Cageyspice for editing and Amazen for suggesting I limit my dependent clauses and rambling sentences. I tried :) And I'd also like to thank you for reading! Without further yammering by the author...

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><p>"You're late," Pam said as Eric pulled the heavy warehouse door closed behind us. A caricature of impatience, she was even standing with her arms folded across her chest and tapping the toe of one very stylish boot.<p>

"Sorry. We had … a problem with our transportation," I offered as explanation.

Like a switch, she turned on the charm. "Sookie. Nice coat." Her voice was low and sultry. And she stepped close to me and felt the faux-fur collar, just as she had with my silk blouse the first time we met. I shrugged her off. "More of a bedroom look, though, than an overcoat, wouldn't you say?"

My perfectly respectable peacoat, unfortunately, was in the cab of a stolen and wrecked Ford coupe. When Eric and I had departed from my apartment, he'd offered me his, but I'd declined in favor of my favorite robe. It fit better than his trench even if it wasn't as warm.

"Thanks," I said, determined not to let Pam get to me when I knew it must be her only intention.

"That's enough, Pam." Eric commanded the attention of everyone in the room. Longshadow, my Indian bartender acquaintance, who had been leaning against a wall looking bored, straightened up. Two young women were seated at a folding card table in the center of the otherwise empty space. "We're ready to begin, aren't we, Sookie?"

I didn't even try to convince Eric to let me interview the women alone, but I knew it would be best to do so individually. "Certainly. But I need to speak with them one at a time."

Eric agreed to this arrangement. "Longshadow, take Belinda outside for a walk. Ginger, you're up first. Miss Stackhouse is going to ask you a few questions and you will answer her honestly. Is that understood?"

Ginger, the skinny blond, nodded in agreement. Belinda, who I'd already offended my first night at Death Warmed Over, shot me a dark look before walking off with Longshadow. A shiver went up my spine at the depth of her unwarranted hatred of me. I tried not to take it too personally. I'd heard all kinds of thoughts about me in the minds of others. What was bouncing around her head was nothing original.

I took Belinda's vacated seat across from Ginger after shrugging off my robe. Something about the black satin didn't command respect, even if Pam had liked the fur collar. Ginger's eyes widened as she noticed my bandaged arm and bloody dress, and she wondered what had really made us late. Her eyes moved from me to Eric and back again. She was even afraid Eric had been the one to injure me. Though she didn't seem to recall ever having seen Eric hurt someone, she had memories of him exhibiting superhuman strength that gave her a healthy fear of him.

Maybe Ginger was smarter than she looked. I still wasn't convinced she had the capacity to be the mastermind of a plot to slowly siphon off funds from Eric's bar, but I'd have a poke around her head to be sure.

"Hi, Ginger. I'm Sookie. I'm a private investigator Eric hired to look into his finances. It seems a considerable sum has recently been found missing."

Ginger didn't show any of the physical signs of anxiousness, but her thoughts were flashing like warning lights. Eric might be able to pick up on tells I couldn't perceive—increased heart rate, maybe even spontaneous sweating—but to anyone else she'd seem calm and collected. Perhaps I'd underestimated her. She'd have fooled me without my gift. But since I could read her mind, I knew she knew exactly what I was talking about.

The problem was, she couldn't seem to access any memories related to the actual theft. There were holes in her thoughts. Outright voids and tears in the network of nerves that pulled together the disparate bits of information into coherent thoughts in a normally functioning brain. Someone had hacked out her memories, and not very neatly.

Bill had always been persuasive. It had taken me a while to realize he was able to manipulate the minds of others because his influence never worked on me. I'd noticed because I could see the effects of his mental strong-arming in the thoughts of others, but he'd been precise about it, slicing through the threads that held the memories together and knitting them back together into such a believable story no one ever noticed the difference. Poor Ginger had been stitched up so many times her brain looked like one of those colorful crocheted blankets Gran used to knit from leftover yarn.

I felt Eric step closer behind me, but I couldn't tell if he was being protective or aggressive so I did my best to ignore him.

"Do you know anything about that, Ginger?" I probed.

"Answer her," Eric said in a deep commanding voice that was very different from the way he'd spoken to me earlier tonight.

"If it's not you, Ginger, you're better off telling me who is responsible." I gave her an encouraging smile, but she sneered at me. I was tired and wanted to just get this over with, so I grabbed her hand to get a better read on her. She pulled away, convinced I was a witch.

Eric must have given her some sort of sign, because Pam stepped forward and placed her hands firmly on Ginger's shoulders so she would stop squirming.

"Was it Belinda, Ginger? We won't let her know you told us anything," I promised, though I wasn't sure I could actually deliver.

"Belinda doesn't need to steal—she's got someone to take care of her. I'm the one that can't afford to lose this job."

When I caught a glimpse of her scrawny seven year old daughter in her head, the one she worked nights to support, the one whose father had run out on them when times got hard, I felt sorry for Ginger. This was a tough break. She'd been worried about her job when she'd heard of the raid, and to her, this interrogation was just icing on the cake.

But I'd had a bad night too, and no amount of my pity was going to change Ginger's situation any more than wallowing in my own misfortune could improve my lot in life.

I'd gotten enough information from her to be reasonably certain of my theory, so I turned over my shoulder and looked at Eric. We were getting pretty good at that silent communication thing he seemed to prefer.

"Ginger, wait here while I confer with Miss Stackhouse."

I stood from my seat. Eric placed his hand on the small of my back and led me to a far corner of the warehouse. We were at least out of Ginger's hearing range, if not Pam's.

"She's innocent."

"You're certain?"

"Yes. The other waitress might be more helpful."

Eric arched his eyebrow, urging me to explain and was obviously frustrated when I didn't take his bait. We stood in a silent battle of wits, testing one another. He chose not to force the issue, which was good, because I wasn't going to explain my theory until I was absolutely sure.

I needed Eric to trust me, even if I didn't trust him. Some day my life might depend on it.

Eric looked over my head towards the table. "Ginger, you are free to go."

She didn't hesitate to gather up her coat and purse so she could get home to her little girl. I thought about suggesting that Eric offer her some sort of compensation for losing her job, but asking him to part with more money when he'd already lost a considerable sum didn't seem like the best idea at the time.

"Pam, will you retrieve Belinda?"

That left Eric and me alone. I sat back down in my chair. He just stood and watched me with a contemplative expression.

Eric Northman looking at me with that penetrating gaze made me wonder what he was thinking. It was a curiosity I was unaccustomed to having. I absently ran my fingers over my cheek then tucked my hair behind my ear. Pam, Longshadow, and my next suspect walked in before either of us spoke.

The second interrogation followed the same pattern; I asked about the missing money and found big holes in her memories. But even though she didn't know anything about the theft didn't mean she couldn't provide some useful information, so I asked about other crimes in the area. I'd thought all this time that Jason's predicament and this case were somehow linked, and I wanted to follow up on my hunch even if it turned out to be nothing.

"There have been a rash of murders in the Quarter. Do you feel safe working in the area, especially so late at night? All of the victims have been young women, such as yourself."

"I got someone who needs me, who will make sure nothing bad happens to me, whether he loves me or not." At least those were her words, but her thoughts revealed a lot more. Suddenly it all made sense.

Before I could follow up on what I saw in Belinda's thoughts, my eyes instinctively darted to Longshadow, who moved from his position leaning against to wall to holding me by the throat faster than I could blink. Before he could bite, a bite that surely would have been meant to kill, Eric pulled broken the handle off a broom left idly in the corner and drove it through Longshadow's back. The Indian vampire started to flake away after regurgitating the blood from his stomach. He must have fed off Belinda while I'd been interrogating Ginger.

The only sound in the warehouse was the clinking of Eric's makeshift weapon as it fell against the cold cement floor when he dropped it. He looked back at me, fangs extended in all their menacing glory, and I wondered if I'd simply exchanged one attacker for another. I knew vampires could lose control at the sight of so much blood. But Eric slipped his arm around my back to support me and gently swept my bloody hair back off my forehead. More than anything I wanted something to wipe out the taste of vampire dust and blood from my mouth, but something told me vampires didn't carry handkerchiefs.

"Are you all right?" Eric asked.

Before I could reply I spit on the ground, spraying a little on Eric's shirt in the process. "I'll live."

Pam had Belinda restrained, which was a good thing, because I was certain she was the Midnight Romeo.

I'd pieced it together from glimpses into her thoughts. Eric had been wrong about a human stealing from him—it'd been Longshadow, though he'd seduced Belinda in an attempt to use her as a scapegoat. His seduction skills turned out to be more advanced than his criminal masterminding or glamouring, because Belinda had been so devoted to him she'd freaked out when she'd found out he'd been biting blond whores. Rather than take her revenge on the man, she'd killed the women.

Eric leaned down to whisper in my ear. "You're sure it was Longshadow?"

I wondered if he'd known that all along and this was all just some sort of game. It didn't stop me from holding onto him. I tilted my head so that my mouth was at his ear. "And she's the killer."

Though his hands remained locked behind my back, supporting me, he leaned back to look me in the eye. "You're certain?"

I nodded again.

"Pam, will you show Sookie where she can get cleaned up? I need a moment alone with Belinda."

"My pleasure," Pam retorted and gave me a saucy smile. She was showing fang.

"Remember what you promised me," I reminded Eric. Though he didn't look particularly thrilled about it, he nodded once in agreement before helping me to my feet.

Pam showed me to a small washroom and produced an article of clothing she had on hand and was willing to part with, which happened to be a cream satin slip with black lace trim. She helped me wash the ash and blood off me as best as we could with limited resources available and eagerly helped me into my borrowed garment. Unfortunately, Pam was much more petite than me. The slip left little to the imagination and showed a lot more cleavage than I was comfortable with, though it was an improvement over my destroyed dress.

"It even matches your robe," Pam said, beaming. "Eric will approve."

I was glad there was no mirror inside the cramped closet so I was blissfully ignorant of how grotesque I really looked.

When I emerged from the washroom marginally cleaner and generally unmolested, I was surprised to find Belinda calmly sitting in her chair rather than bound and gagged. Vampires certainly weren't predictable.

"Ready?" Eric asked.

I looked from him to Belinda, curious about what had transpired between the killer and the vampire while I'd been freshening up, but I didn't have the energy to ask.

"Oh, yes," I said. Eric and Pam shared a silent communication that made me wonder if _they_ were telepathic, at least between each other, before he whisked me out of the warehouse and into the backseat of a waiting cab. I didn't even argue about the dangers of motor transport or ask how the driver had been summoned. I just let my head lean against Eric's shoulder as we rode in silence back to my office on Bourbon Street.

I started to remove my robe and place it on the coat rack as I always did when I returned home, but then remembered I was wearing next to nothing underneath and I hastily retied the sash.

Eric was still standing on the other side of the threshold, a conflicted look on his face. No smile. It was almost as if he were debating whether or not to follow. "Pam will see that you receive your payment soon."

"Thanks. I appreciate it." I'd certainly earned it.

He stepped through the doorway so smoothly the movement was nearly invisible. "Belinda will confess to the murders and lead them to evidence of her guilt. Your brother will be released."

"I'm relieved to know you are a man of your word." I hadn't ever completely trusted Eric. I still didn't. This could have gone very badly for me. I still wasn't sure why he had intervened when Longshadow had tried to kill me, or why Eric believed me when I said he was the thief. But my brother would be cleared of the false charges against him and I was still alive. The situation had turned out better than I could have hoped.

He took a step closer. His long stride put him within arm's reach of me. "You think of me as a man. Not a vampire."

I cocked my head to the side and considered his statement. I hadn't been deliberate in my choice of words, but Eric was right. That little flutter in my gut when I looked into his eyes was definitely a result of my thinking of him as a man. Still, that prickle in the back of my mind warned that he was a vampire, and even if I didn't think he'd injure me, getting mixed up with him could be even more painful than the wounds that had left me with my scars.

"You're both. I don't think you're a monster, if that's what you're getting at." I'd seen and heard enough of human thoughts to know that they could be just as devious and cruel as the vampires I'd met. It didn't strike me as impossible for a vampire to be capable of … more. Even if my own limited experience would lead me to believe otherwise, I wouldn't judge Eric by the mistakes of another of his kind.

He reached out and tipped my chin up, then let his finger lazily trace down my jaw to my neck. His slight touch sent a shiver down my spine. "You make me feel like a man," he whispered before he brought his lips to mine.

Eric kissed me liked he'd invented it. For all I knew, he had. He could be a thousand years old; he could have slaughtered people for centuries; in the moment, I couldn't care. When he kissed me like that I wasn't worried about the consequences.

Too soon, he pulled back. He closed his mouth and gazed down at me for several seconds before speaking. "I will see you again."

I nodded. Then his hands were on my hips, drawing me towards him. Feeling brazenly irresponsible, I reached my hands up to his shoulders and pressed my body flush against his. Our close contact was exhilarating and intoxicating and I brought my mouth to his again before I could think better of it. We lost ourselves in lips, teeth, and tongue until I was breathless and stumbled back, dizzy with desire.

To my credit, though he didn't breath, Eric seemed similarly affected by our embrace.

He pressed his lips against my forehead one last time before whispering, "soon," and melting into the darkness as his shadow disappeared from my doorway.


	8. Chapter 8

Thanks to everyone who is reading, and thanks to the fabulous Charlaine Harris. We wouldn't be enjoying these fantastic characters without her! And of course, thanks to Cageyspice for editing!

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><p>"Soon" meant something different to a vampire than to a regular person—or a telepath. Though a check for my agreed-upon fee, plus a ten percent bonus, <em>and<em> a beautiful new cranberry coat were delivered the next day, I hadn't seen Eric since the night I'd wrapped up his case. Since we'd kissed with such passion that I still felt dizzy thinking about it.

That had been three weeks ago.

I'd had plenty to keep me busy. New cases. A leaky pipe under my sink. Life.

But tonight, I wasn't letting myself worry about anything, including vampires—_especially_ one particular vampire. Tonight was a night for celebration. Jason had decided to move home. An old friend of our dad's had offered him a job on the road crew. The New Deal had finally made it to Bon Temps. And home, after all, is the place where they have to take you back.

To see Jason off, I was throwing a party in my office. Lafayette had made more than enough food, Amelia had brought the booze, and my brother had brought a handful of questionable characters who were at least loyal enough to call him a friend after his recent stint in jail. Everyone was having a good time; I could tell from the thoughts dancing around me as people swayed to the record player Laf had brought up. I couldn't help but smile at the swirl of happiness in the minds of those around me. New Orleans was a dark city that was often full of dark thoughts, but tonight, in my little corner, it was a kaleidoscope of bright daffodil yellows and strawberry pinks and mint greens—until I landed in a great void.

There was a vampire in my bedroom.

"Aren't you having a good time, Sookie?" Amelia asked as she refilled her glass of whiskey.

"Of course I am," I said, giving her my best, broadest smile—the one I was sure made me look a little crazy.

"Good. Because I'm really glad you had this party."

"Yeah? Any reason in particular?" Even if I weren't a mind reader I'd have known why my friend was enjoying the shindig. He was a stocky mechanic who had dimples when he smiled whose name was Trey.

"He looks like he'd be wild in bed but still treat me like a lady," Amelia said with a sly wink. She tipped her glass to me before sashaying over to his side. I kept my place near the refreshment table and watched them flirt. It was nice to see my friend enjoying the prospect of a new romance.

"Sookie, you're the only one I know who could manage to be a wallflower at her own party," Lafayette said as he came up beside me.

I wanted to argue, but I _was_ leaning up against the wall. "It's not my party, it's Jason's."

"You're the one who deserves a celebration. I may not know the particulars, but somethin' tells me that you played a part in gettin' Jason there off that hook. And there are lots of fine young men here you could be batting dem long lashes at."

"You've been chatting them all up. Surely you're not suggesting I try to compete with you?"

A smug smile curled the corner of his mouth. "Well, Amelia tells me you have another man in mind, anyway. That tall, blond mystery client of yours from a few weeks back."

"Amelia better check her sources, because I haven't seen him since we settled his business." Lafayette emitted a skeptical grunt before going downstairs and across the alley to refill our dwindling supply of ice. I hoped Sam wouldn't mind.

The vampire in my bedroom didn't move as the party wound down or emerge after I said goodbye to my guests, but I could still feel that cold hole every time I did one of my regular sweeps. I tidied up the office and checked the lock and had then exhausted all means of delaying this meeting, so I reluctantly entered my small back room.

Eric Northman was stretched out on one side of my bed like a cat, his long golden hair fanned out over my favorite pillow. He'd neatly lined up his shoes under the window and laid his jacket over the arm of my rocking chair.

I didn't say anything; I didn't know what to say to him, though I'd rehearsed the conversation several times in my head over the last several weeks. In my plans I'd been so smooth, so cool. I'd been charming and aloof and not revealed anything of my intentions or desires.

Now, I felt lost and unsure. He didn't say anything either, so I started my normal bedtime routine. I removed my earrings and laid them in my jewelry box. I pulled the pins out of my hair and let it fall down my back, shaking out the waves. I took off my shoes and set them in my closet. Though I very much wanted to take off my bra since the underwire had been poking me for the last hour, I stopped there. I couldn't very well slip into my pajamas and go to sleep without dealing with the vampire currently occupying my bed. Instead I lay next to him on top of Gran's double wedding ring quilt that had won a first prize at the county fair the summer I'd turned twelve.

After a long time of just looking at his enigmatically expressionless face I said, "when we're lying in bed, you don't seem so tall."

If I didn't quite pull off that nonchalant femme fatale attitude I'd been going for, at least I'd surprised him. He laughed, genuinely, as if I'd caught him off guard. Unless of course that was all an act. I had no idea of Eric's true intentions, unlike everyone else I met.

"I assure you, I retain my size whether I am horizontal or vertical," he replied with a suggestive smile. "But you are welcome to explore a variety of perspectives, if you like." He gestured up and down the long length of his body and flashed another mischievous grin. His untoward comments didn't make me feel uncomfortable. Something about his laugh had put me at ease. And it was something more than the peace I felt in the presence of someone whose thoughts weren't blaring at me, though that was certainly a perk.

"Another time, perhaps," I said, though if he'd tried to kiss me at that moment, I wouldn't have resisted.

But he didn't, and instead changed the subject. "You were having a party."

"My brother's going home. Just a few of his friends came over to say goodbye."

Eric nodded, then adjusted himself in bed, turning to face me and propping his head up with his hand. I mirrored his position but was careful to maintain plenty of distance between us—enough room for me to trace a full ring on Gran's quilt. I completed the circuit seven times before Eric broke the silence.

"You didn't rescind my invitation."

I felt my cheeks flush. "I didn't think of it."

Which was, of course, a lie that Eric contested. "You didn't think of me once, not in the last three weeks?" He gave me a wicked smirk.

"Did you think of me?"

His face turned serious and he looked me dead in the eye. "Often. Perhaps more often than I like."

I turned away and leaned my head back on my pillow to stare at the ceiling, searching for patterns in the white bumps of plaster. Several minutes passed while I found the form of a dancing bear and a pirate ship sailing towards the window. Neither seemed more ridiculous than the conversation I was having with the vampire in my bed.

"Why did you come tonight?" I asked, omitting the after-three-weeks part I was thinking.

"I need you to come with me tomorrow night." Not exactly a request, but not exactly a command. Also not very damn specific.

"If you had a job for me, why didn't you make an appointment or see me in my office? Clients don't usually make themselves comfortable in my bed."

"It's not a job. It's … personal."

His vague words irritated me. It was late and I wasn't one for circumspection. "Speak plainly, Eric. Are you asking me on a date?"

His eyes sparkled with amusement and I felt my heart jump to my throat in anticipation of his response. "No. There is someone you need to meet."

"So you're trying to set me up with someone else?" I teased, trying to make light of my question and disguise my disappointment in his response.

"No." Eric's answer came quickly, resolutely, and echoed in the space between us for a moment before he continued. "You've asked me more than once what brought me to your door that night."

I nodded, afraid my voice would betray me if I tried to speak. Though I'd often thought about that kiss, I'd spent just as much time worrying about whoever Eric had killed in the alley and whoever had caused that car crash, and especially what had prompted him to seek me out.

"The gentleman who first brought you to my attention would like to meet you. He has asked me to make the introduction."

"But..." I wasn't even sure of what I had been about to say, only that any thought had immediately been zapped out of my mind when I accidentally brushed Eric's hand and a shock of static electricity passed between us. Though I wasn't the most educated girl, I did know what created the spark. Perhaps Eric and I were more alike than I thought.

When I looked into Eric's eyes, I realized he felt this too, whatever it was.

"This is dangerous," he said, and I didn't think he was talking about runaway electrons.

"I know," I said as I brushed my fingertips over his lips, very aware that two sharp fangs lay beneath the soft, pink skin. "You're a vampire." And I knew better than most the risk of being involved with a vampire; I'd done it before, with Bill, and it hadn't ended well. I let my hand fall back onto the quilt.

He narrowed his eyes. That wasn't what he had meant. Suddenly it occurred to me that he didn't just think this was dangerous for _me_—he thought it was to _him_, too. He laid his hand flat over my heart so the tip of his longest finger rested in the hollow below my throat. "And you are mortal," he said, with what sounded like regret.

Later, when I reflected back on that moment, I wondered why I hadn't been more surprised that he hadn't said "human".

His hand slid up my neck and cupped my cheek. I felt my breath catch and I tilted my head towards him, leaning into his touch, then jumped so suddenly I bumped my forehead painfully against his when a loud bang at my front door startled me.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" I said, rubbing Eric's forehead though I was sure I was the one developing a knot. "I've got to see who that is," I said and scrambled out of bed, hoping Eric didn't follow.

I had never been less excited to see Amelia since we first met.

"What in heaven's name do you want?" I demanded as I opened the door and tried to catch my breath.

"Oh good, you're not in bed yet. When I had to pound on the door so hard I thought I'd break the glass I figured you might have already been asleep," Amelia said as she brushed past me into the office. "I got home and realized I'd left my scarf."

"So you came all the way back here to get it in the middle of the night?" I wasn't sure exactly what Amelia had interrupted, and maybe I should have been thanking her for providing a distraction, but all I felt was intense irritation that she'd returned.

"Well, it isn't so much mine, as a friends, and I didn't so much—"

"Never mind. I don't need the whole story. But I'm not sure it's here. I didn't come across it while I was cleaning."

"I think I left it in your bathroom when I was freshening up," Amelia replied, oblivious to my irritation and impatience.

"I'll check!" I said more shrilly than I had intended. The last thing I needed was Amelia popping into my bedroom and finding Eric.

"Don't be silly, Sookie. Unless you're hiding something.._._" I felt a chill run up my spine when I realized Amelia was sporting that grin that meant she was up to no good. Luckily I saw her intentions in her thoughts before she made her move, and headed her off before she dashed into my bedroom, the only way of getting to the washroom.

"Sookie, what—or should I say _who_—do you have in there? It's that client you had a few weeks back. Tall, blond, pale as the moon, you said? I knew you liked him."

"I'm entitled to my privacy."

Amelia snorted. "Seems pretty hypocritical of you to say so, considering."

She had me at that. "Just let me get the scarf."

Though she sighed dramatically as if I were asking for her firstborn, she relented. "All right."

Turned out my worry had been in vain. When I ducked back in to retrieve Amelia's lost accessory there was no trace of Eric. He'd even straightened the quilt and fluffed the pillow so not even a very observant detective such as myself would have been alerted to the fact that there had been two bodies lying on the bed moments ago. No evidence of what might have been about to happen remained.

I tried to swallow my disappointment as I searched out Amelia's scarf and returned to the front office.

"Here," I said as I handed her the colorful length of silk. "I didn't mean to make a fuss. I was just tired out from the party and enjoying some quiet time alone."

Amelia smiled. "I'm used to your strange behavior by now, Sookie. I'll see you soon." I showed her out the door with a quick hug and locked the door again.

When I walked back into my room, a cold wind hit me. I realized my window was still open and went to shut it, but, out of curiosity—and maybe hope—pulled on my new cranberry coat instead and climbed out onto the fire escape. Eric was standing on the edge of the roof with his back to me, staring out at the view of the city.

"You're still here," I said.

He turned to face me. "For a moment. I needed to confirm our appointment for tomorrow. But I have interrupted your quiet time for too long," Eric said, his smile proof that he'd been eavesdropping on my conversation with Amelia. "Unless you do not wish to be alone?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.

"There are different ways of being alone." What I didn't say was what I really thought, which was that it's really a matter of finding the right person to be alone with. I shoved my hands in my pockets, hiding my fingers from the cold.

Eric took a step toward me. I was relieved when he was close enough to block the wind, which was forceful enough to chill me to the bone on this dark winter night. His hand reached out to rest on my shoulder. "You got your new coat, then. It fits well and the color suits you."

"Yes, thank you. And for the bonus, too. I would have written you a note, but I didn't know where to send it. You were quite generous." I didn't tell him that I'd tracked down Ginger and given the extra funds to her to help her get by until she found another job. She needed the money a lot more than I did.

"Tomorrow night. Midnight. You will come with me," he said as his other hand slipped around my waist to rest on my back. I wanted to step against him, to return the embrace, but my hands were buried in my pockets and a moment's hesitation was enough to make the gesture seem awkward. Instead I nodded. Tomorrow night.

When he leaned down, his lips brushed the tender spot on my head where I'd knocked it against his rather than meeting my mouth.

"Until then, be safe, Sookie Stackhouse," he said.

Before I could say goodnight in return he'd stepped up onto the edge of the roof again, then dropped off and landed as surefooted as a cat in the alley, two stories below.


	9. Chapter 9

The fantastic characters belong to Charlaine Harris, and the clothes belong to history. Thanks to Cageyspice for everything she does!

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><p>"There has been a change of plans."<p>

That was rather obvious, because I definitely hadn't expected to get out of the bath to find Eric in my bedroom again. We'd agreed that he would meet me here at midnight, and even if my watch was broken I could tell from the quiet streets it was not yet 9 o'clock.

"Well I'm rather under-dressed for the occasion, whatever it may be," I said dryly, pulling my robe closed tightly against my chest as I admired Eric's crisp white shirt and perfectly tailored suit. His long, blond hair was tied back neatly. The style highlighted his prominent cheekbones. He looked irritatingly flawless while my hair was dripping on the cold hardwood floor.

"I'll wait out front," Eric said, then left me to put on some clothes and figure out how to get my hair dry in a hurry.

I dressed for the ambiguity of the evening's agenda in a black dress with a bias cut and flutter sleeves. After wringing my hair out as best I could with my towel, I left it down to dry in waves since putting it up wet was sure to help me catch a cold.

When I finally felt presentable, I entered the office. Eric stood and approached me with intent, took me in his arms, and kissed me.

The lack of preamble startled me. My hands landed on his shoulders, and I didn't know whether to push him away or thread my hands in his hair. But he pressed on, with no sign of the uncertainty I was feeling, and I was swept away. That was what I had been waiting for last night: a clear indication that he was as powerless against this attraction as I was. There wasn't any more certain sign than the brazen display of passion.

When I opened my eyes as he broke away, I burst out laughing. His mouth was smeared with red. There was even a bit on his exposed fangs.

"That was not exactly the response I was expecting," Eric said as one hand ran through my loose, damp hair at the back of my neck. He smiled, and I ran my thumb over his lips as I admired the little half moon wrinkles at the corner of his mouth.

"Your mouth is covered in lipstick," I said.

"A risk I was willing to take," he said, and leaned down to gently brush his lips against mine again, this time softly and slowly, as if he were sampling my flavor. Finding it to his liking, he stepped closer and deepened the kiss. If this was why he'd stopped by early, it was hard to be mad at him.

Despite my enthusiasm for kissing, when his hands started to roam, I broke away and tried to catch my breath and take hold of my senses. "Eric," I said. "Wait a minute."

He kissed my forehead. "I wanted to make sure I had the chance to do that. And that you would remember it at the end of the night."

His words settled into my gut and killed any thoughts of continuing where we had left off.

"Why?"

"You're going to have to make a choice." The way he said it made me certain I wouldn't care for any of my options. "I'm going to ask you again to trust me."

But last time Eric had insisted I do that, his reasoning had been that he hadn't killed me yet. I wanted more reassurance than that. "And again, why should I?"

He smirked and kissed me again for good measure. "That's something you're going to have to answer yourself."

His arms were still around me and I couldn't find it in myself to shrug him off, but I did look him squarely in the eye. "Eric, I'm going to ask you one more time and I want you to tell me the truth—why did you show up at my door?"

"If you want the answer, you'll have to come with me."

My gran used to always say when you're up a creek without a paddle that's when you finally learn to swim. Eric wiped off his mouth with one of my handkerchiefs, then took my chin in his hand and did the same for me before he helped me into my coat. We descended my steps to Bourbon Street as the French Quarter started to come alive for the night. After a brisk ten-minute walk, we entered an underground jazz club. A trumpeter was warming up while a drummer adjusted his cymbals. I was almost excited to hear them play—something told me a vampire jazz combo would be something to hear.

"This your new place?"

Eric nodded and gestured for me to slide into a booth, and he followed me, laying his arm across the back of the seat in a vaguely protective and slightly possessive way. Though I'd been a tad offended by Eric's three-week disappearing act, it was reassuring to see he'd been hard at work building his business and not just avoiding me.

"It's a little classier than Death Warmed Over," I said, admiring the polished wood bar and the fancy gas light fixtures.

"That would be my doing," Pam said as she glided up next to our table.

"I should have known," I said with a smile. Pam wasn't exactly friendly, but she certainly wasn't boring, and seeing her made me feel more comfortable about whatever tonight's agenda would entail.

"Eric has excellent taste in some matters," she said as her eyes flickered over the low neckline of my dress. "But he is rather lacking in decorating skills. Fortunately, I have been studying interior design and find I have a flair for the art. I could help do over your office, if you like."

Before I could respond, Eric interrupted our conversation. "That'll be enough, Pam. Has he arrived?"

She nodded.

"Then bring him out."

Pam turned and walked back to what must be Eric's back office, shaking her hips as she crossed the floor.

"Was that the change? The time of the meeting?" Eric still hadn't explained to me what exactly we were doing, and I wasn't one to follow on blind faith for long no matter how good a kisser he might be.

"No, we still have our midnight appointment. There was something I thought you should know prior, and I thought you should hear it straight from the source."

My heart caught in my throat. Though I was positive that I couldn't read vampire minds, I knew exactly who Eric had brought me here to see.

Bill.

I looked up and there he was, walking across the room with the slow, steady gait of someone who will live forever. He looked exactly the same as when I first met him, but of course I knew he would. The evidence of the prolonged torture he'd experienced would heal completely—he was a vampire, after all. And he'd fed well after I'd rescued him and staked his maker. So well that he'd almost killed me.

I held back the urge to elbow Eric in the gut before turning and smacking him across the face.

"Why?" I whispered, my voice hoarse with emotion.

"I know he's hurt you. But you need to hear this," Eric said. "It's important."

"Sookie," Bill said in his lazy Southern drawl as he sat down across from us. After all this time, the wounds I thought had healed were torn open by those two syllables. He turned his eyes upward and said in a much harsher voice, "Eric."

So they knew each other. Everything between Eric and me must been an act. Worst of all, I'd been falling for it.

"Tell her," Eric said, and it was clear it was a command Bill couldn't refuse.

"I did love you. Even after everything that happened between us, you have to believe that."

My breath was coming in ragged, choking sputters, and I was fighting to maintain control of my emotions, but I nodded. There was no doubt in my mind that Bill had loved me—but it had still nearly killed me.

"Bon Temps is my ancestral home. That part was always true. But the reason I returned..." he trailed off, his eyes contracting with guilt as he looked to Eric, whose steely gaze demanded he continue.

My heart fluttered in my chest. Though I'd convinced myself I was over Bill, my emotions hadn't caught up to my head on the matter. Perhaps it's impossible to truly heal after your first broken heart.

"Out with it, Bill. We don't have time for your convoluted explanations," I urged. Though we weren't touching, I felt Eric lean closer to me. I couldn't look at him.

Bill gave me a forlorn smile and shook his head, then wiped his hand over his mouth before letting it rest on the table. He looked down at his fingers while he spoke. "I explained so little of what it truly meant to be a vampire. I hid the truth of my world from you. I was wrong to do that."

I could see how much that admission had cost him, but I couldn't comfort him. He'd given me his blood without informing me of the consequences or obtaining my consent, and he'd abandoned me when I'd needed him most because his maker had come calling. I couldn't even begin to process the rest of what he'd done to me. No apology could ever repair the damage he'd done.

"I know," was all I could say.

"Tell her," Eric commanded.

Bill sighed before beginning again. "I was sent, by my queen, to learn more about you and obtain your favor, so you'd use your gift for her benefit," Bill said, averting his eyes in shame.

I'd hated when he'd called my telepathy a gift, and he knew it.

I know you can't forgive me," Bill started, and I bit back a scoff. He was right about that. I wouldn't be forgetting about it, either. "But I hope you can understand that I didn't have a choice. Not in seeking you out, and certainly not in loving you."

I was painfully aware that Eric was a witness to this intimate discussion, and wanted to cut it short. Whatever my past was with Bill, I'd desperately wanted to prevent it touching my future. Eric had told me I was going to have to make a choice—letting him forget he ever met me wasn't likely to be on my list of options. But I still didn't see where he fit into all of this.

"This queen … she's the real reason you sought me out, then?" I turned to look up at Eric's inscrutable face.

He nodded, only once, and didn't elaborate.

So, just as I had suspected all along. Eric was no different than Bill. Same agenda, even. "I should have known," I said.

"You don't know half of it." His words were so icy cold I felt my heart freeze. "I'll let you two finish your conversation while I confer with Pam," Eric slid out of the booth. It did not escape Bill's notice that he let his hand trail across my shoulders as he stood. I'm sure it did not escape Eric's notice that I shuddered slightly under his touch.

Bill waited for him to walk away before speaking. His next words were obviously difficult to utter. "Eric found me when he realized you had knowledge of vampires. He … wanted to be sure you didn't hold a grudge against my kind for what happened between us."

"How noble of him," I said through gritted teeth. It was actually self-serving and high-handed. Typical vampire.

If Bill noticed my sarcasm, he didn't let on. "I know I ruined everything for us, Sookie. I know we can't be together. But I want you to be safe, and I'll always care for you."

"Why are you doing this? Saying this? Why are you here now? Because Eric put you up to it?"

Bill sidestepped my question. "He's an honorable vampire."

"I'm not sure we have the same idea of honor." I glanced over Bill's shoulder and saw Eric approaching us again.

"Point taken. But know this: you are in danger."

Any idiot could have told me that. I hadn't forgotten the killer in the alley the night Death Warmed Over was raided. The tiny white lines on my wrists reminded me of the near fatal car crash. And I didn't need to see Bill again to remember the risk of opening my heart to a vampire.

"All done?" Eric asked as if we had been finishing up a friendly round of drinks.

Bill nodded and stood. He exchanged a significant look with Eric and then took several steps towards the front door before pausing. "Take care of yourself, Sookie Stackhouse," he said without turning around, then continued walking out of the bar and out of my life.

Eric was smart enough not to say anything. He gestured to the vampire behind the bar and a glass of gin appeared in front of me just as the band started to play, slow and smooth, not the showy, high-energy jazz favored in the more raucous bars. The cool style was soothing, and I felt the tension from my unexpected encounter with Bill ease. The gin lit a fire in my belly, thawing me. After a few sips, I understood how it could melt your cares away, how people could seek solace in the bottom of a glass. Carried away by an emotional saxophone solo, the crowd settled in the smoky lounge. I settled back into my self.

I set the half-empty glass down on the table, and Eric covered my hand with his. We sat like that until the song ended.

"Tell me about the queen," I said.

Eric gave me a short lesson in vampire politics and managed to only supply enough details so I was clear how I fit in. It turned out, my lost cause of a cousin Hadley had gotten mixed up with vamps too, and she'd been the one to tell Sophie Ann, the vampire queen of New Orleans, about me and my unfortunate quirk.

Hadley was dead now, and I didn't want to join her any more than I wanted to live under the thumb of the queen. I may not have much of a life, but it was my own. I'd carved out a place for myself in New Orleans, and I didn't want to give it up.

"She's a good queen, but she's rather old-fashioned. And things are changing for us. It is becoming more difficult to hide what we are. Some are pushing for us to reveal ourselves, and having a telepath during that transition would be a decisive advantage. We no longer think like humans … and understanding their thoughts would be most helpful."

"So you need me for my gift," I said.

"But I want you for much more," Eric said. His fingers tightened their grip on mine, and when I looked into his eyes, I realized how much that admission cost him. Eric was not accustomed to needing—or even wanting—others.

I didn't want to think about that at the moment.

"You said it was a gentleman we were meeting tonight? Not the queen, then?"

"No. I've managed to delay that inevitability. But there's more I must tell you."

I wasn't sure I could stand any more surprises tonight. It was a lot to take in. Bill, the queen, and Hadley? I hadn't seen her for years, but to find out she was turned into a vampire and was now finally dead … Jason was really the only family I had left. I was glad I'd been able to clear his name and he was safely back in Bon Temps.

"I'm all alone," I said.

Eric released my hand and brought his own up to my shoulder and pushed my hair back. "You don't have to be."

"Eric … I can't—" I shrugged, but he didn't move his hand. His grip on me tightened, and his thumb lightly brushed over my pulse.

"No, you could. You could be mine."

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><p>Just one more chapter left! I'll try to have it posted in a week or so.<p> 


	10. Chapter 10

Thanks to Charlaine Harris for bringing us this wonderful world. I hope you guys have enjoyed this noir spin on SVM as much as me! It's been tons of fun to write. I want to especially thank Cageyspice for editing for me. She has a way of switching up a few words so I say "that's exactly what I meant!"

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><p><em>Mine. <em>I'd heard that promise before, given myself over to it completely and without reservation. What I hadn't realized in my naïveté was that from a vampire, it wasn't the valentine hearts-and-candy sentiment of love or infatuation, but total and complete possession.

I wouldn't do that again.

"I'll always be my own, Eric." I couldn't look him in the eye, but I couldn't pull away from him, either.

A singer took the stage with the band, her rich cocoa skin glowing in the low light. She wore a long black dress and her hair pulled back into a tight bun with a fresh bloom tucked into the knot. The crowd took a collective breath in anticipation. Over a low, minimal, trumpet solo, she started singing. Her voice was intimate and vulnerable, just like the moment.

"Do you dance, Sookie?" Eric asked.

I did dance. I _loved_ to dance. I couldn't sing—especially not like the woman currently seducing the bar with her sultry voice—but I could dance. My problem was that most dancing required a partner, and one you were expected to touch. Those conditions robbed it of all its pleasure in my case, since I would be bombarded by his thoughts.

"I do," I replied, and, before I knew it, I was swaying back and forth to the slow jazz in Eric's arms.

It might have been awkward, given our height differences, but, whether it was because he was a vampire or just his natural coordination, Eric danced well. I was aware of nothing more than Eric's hand on my lower back and my cheek against his shirt.

I let the music flow through me as we rocked back and forth following the delicate rhythm of the drum since the tenor saxophone solo was irregular. The soloist's lush voice was magic; the mood, intoxicating. It hit me harder than the gin.

The song was one of longing, of devotion. It was neither a song of young, carefree love, nor a song of possibility. A deep ache settled into my heart. I sighed in resignation, letting the bittersweet tune carry me away.

The song wound down, and I pulled back from Eric to watch the singer hold the last note. She held the note longer than I thought possible, and her voice was so powerful I felt it in my bones. Her eyes swept the crowd, pausing on me just long enough that I could see the deep sorrow reflected in hers. You couldn't fake singing like that—you had to feel it. She'd had her heart broken, too.

"It's time to go now," Eric said, pulling me out of the moment.

Quiet applause erupted in the crowd as the singer smiled and stepped off the stage. Just like that, the spell was broken.

"Where?" I asked.

"With me."

I didn't have much of a choice, so I didn't bother to argue. "Let's go."

"Wait here one moment," Eric said, then left me in our booth and darted off to the back room, leaving me to think.

I was glad for the interruption to my train of thought when the enigmatic singer sat down across from me.

"Seat taken?" she asked. Even her speaking voice was thick and warm and sweet like maple syrup.

"No. Sit, please. You were absolutely spellbinding."

A shy smile curved the corners of her mouth. "Pamela asked me to sing. An audition. I only hope she liked it." Her dark complexion couldn't hide the blush that tinted her cheeks. "If I could get a job, in a place like this, singing instead of …" She'd be happy and healthy, she thought. She didn't know anything about what kind of place this really was, and I didn't have the heart to tell her.

"I'm sure she thought you were just lovely," I said, because from what little I knew, Pam had good taste. "But be careful."

"You too, Miss. That man you were dancing with looks like a heartbreaker." She smiled at me conspiratorially.

I couldn't help but agree as the vampire in question emerged again. With his intense eyes, he looked as sharp as a knife—and just as full of violent promises.

I called "good luck" over my shoulder to the singer, wishing I'd gotten her name before Eric took my arm and led me out toward the back door. Pam took my vacated seat, so I could only hope that I'd see her again, at least, if I survived the night.

Eric took me out through the rear entrance and we walked down the alley, which brought back unsettling memories of fleeing Death Warmed Over after the raid.

"Relax," Eric said as he slipped an arm around me.

I tried not to worry that he was able to sense my tension.

"Maybe I'd feel better if I knew what I was in for. Care to share?" I asked.

A long piece of time stretched out between us. The ominous clack of my high heels against the gravelly pavement was the only sound in the otherwise silent night.

"Do you have much family, Sookie?"

"Just my brother." Which was why it had been so important for me to get involved with Eric in the first place. Though Eric had confirmed it, I'd always assumed Hadley had died, and when Gran passed, that made my brother and me the only remaining Stackhouses. I was unlikely to carry on the family line, so I could only hope that Jason would settle down with a nice girl and have some fat babies.

"And you value family, don't you?"

"Of course." Who didn't? I stopped our march down the dark alley and turned toward him. "Don't _you_?" And I immediately regretted my words. Eric would have no family, or at least not what I thought of as family. Not anymore. Everyone from his human life would be long dead.

For a moment, Eric's thoughts felt far away, though I shouldn't have been able to tell such a thing. I blamed my insight on his strangely revealing eyes, which said more with a single glance than most men could communicate in a rousing speech.

"Eric, what's this about?"

"Your family. You'd be thankful to find another branch, would you not?"

"Well, I suppose so."

He took my hand in his and squeezed it reassuringly, but I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling in my gut. I didn't get a chance to ask for him to elaborate before we arrived at our intended destination.

"We're here."

'Here' was a private club, one that made me almost dizzy at the thought of entering it. Whatever magic warded this place was strong, stronger than anything I'd ever encountered, and I counted a witch among my closest friends.

Eric's hand reached to turn the knob to open the door, then he turned to me and paused. "I'm bringing you here to fulfill an old debt. Just so you know, this wasn't my idea."

"Is that supposed to comfort me?"

"No." Then he kissed me, long and hard on the mouth, and I wondered if that had been intended too, but didn't have time to ask. The magic trying to keep me from entering was giving me a serious case of nausea, and I didn't want to throw up on Eric's polished shoes.

We were greeted by a short, gnome-looking creature who was different from any other supernatural being I'd ever encountered. He eyed me skeptically for a moment, then turned his head up to view Eric, and his expression softened.

"This will be Miss Stackhouse, then," he said, and Eric nodded. "Very well."

Eric dropped his arm from around me, and I felt the loss, although my stomach was feeling a lot better now that I'd been welcomed into the club. "I'm not welcome here, Sookie. Or, I should say, my kind isn't. I'll wait for you outside."

Panic rose in me. Even if I didn't trust Eric, I still felt some comfort in his presence. I felt as if he'd walked me into the lion's den and abandoned me. I wondered if this had all been some sort of trap. But he was gone before I could protest, and the gnome was clearing his throat in an attempt to get my attention.

"This way, Miss Stackhouse."

I followed him through a dining room until we got to a back corner where the most startling man I'd ever seen rose to greet me. His long white hair was pulled back elegantly, and though his face was wrinkled, it glowed with a regal beauty I'd never seen in a human before. He was definitely something other.

"It brings me great pleasure to finally meet you, my dear." He took my hand in his, and his skin felt like thin paper, dry and smooth.

"May I ask who you are?" Maybe not my most well-mannered but I wasn't interested in social niceties at the moment.

"I am Niall Brigant. And you are descended from my line."

"I think I need to sit down," I said, suddenly feeling a bit lightheaded.

After I took a long drink from the glass of water at the table, I felt calm enough to hear him out.

Niall explained over the most delicious meal I'd ever had that he was my great-great grandfather. And a fairy prince.

It made sense. I'd always been different, and there'd never been an explanation. Of course, Jason wasn't like me, and my dad and Aunt Linda had never seemed different. But it wasn't surprising to learn I wasn't exactly human, even though I still wasn't clear on the various creatures that made up the hierarchy of the fae.

It was, however, hard to imagine my grandmother cavorting with a fairy, but I didn't judge her for it. Thinking about how she carried the weight of that secret with her only made that she was gone forever sting that much more. I'd never hear her side of the story of an illicit love affair with a beautiful and dangerous supernatural creature. Because whatever the truth of my family history, that much was obvious. As grandfatherly as Niall looked, and as thrilled as I was to find more family, I could feel his power and self-interest even if I couldn't hear his thoughts.

He laid his hand over mine, and his touch was cold and strange, but I was too scared to pull it away. "You are Adele's granddaughter, that's for certain," Niall said, and I wondered if he'd picked up on my line of thought.

"You met my gran?" I'd been curious, of course, but more than anything, I wanted to distract him long enough to gather my wits. My thoughts were racing, trying to figure out what his goal was in summoning me here now, and why it had been through a vampire, since Niall had explained how dangerous they were to his kind. It was better to let my detective instincts take over, rather than rely on my emotions, which could be much more easily manipulated.

"Only once. Fintan, my son, didn't want me to know his human family. And given what is happening now, I can't say that I blame him." His smile dropped from his face, and an unmistakable look of guilt flashed over his features.

In my experience, powerful supernatural beings did not feel guilty often, and I didn't think it was a good sign.

"Then how do you know we're alike?" I asked, morbidly curious about any detail that might shed light on issues I'd never be able to discuss with my grandmother.

"She had the essential spark, too." Niall winked at me and I narrowed my eyes at him.

"What do you mean?"

My fairy great-grandfather smiled at me indulgently and gave me the look parents give their children when they attempt to explain something that is intuitive to an adult but impossible to comprehend for someone with limited life experience. "An openness to the supernatural world. Fintan loved human women who had it. It's quite rare." Naill's expression changed to one of grave determination, and he gripped my hand tightly. "But people who possess it are destined to do great things. It's why the others fear you; you represent an alternative—threat to the status quo."

I eyed him skeptically; I'd never felt like I had a great destiny or as if I threatened any power structure. All I'd ever wanted was to make my own way in this world and find happiness where I could. Not exactly the stuff of epic myths.

"Why is it you are seeking me out now?"

"For one, Fintan worked to keep you hidden from me while he still lived. Then the divisions between our kind became so deep, so firmly entrenched, I knew it was only a matter of time before they hunted you down. And now Eric tells me it is not only the water fae who seek you out." Niall shrugged his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. "I suppose it is a stroke of luck that he found you first."

There were so many questions crowded in my head, fighting for priority. Who were the water fae? Could they have been responsible for the attack in the alley or the car accident? What did divisions between warring fae factions have to do with me, when I was, at best, only one-eighth fairy? But, "How do you know Eric?" eventually tumbled out first.

"That, my dear, is a story for another time."

I glanced at my watch. I needed a new one. Like always, it said 7:15. My instincts told me more time had passed than I'd realized, as the dining room had emptied out while we'd been talking. "It's late," I said.

"It is, and the vampire is waiting. Patience was never his strong suit. You'd think after all the time..." Niall trailed off with a chuckle as he stood from his chair. I stood as well, and he put his hands on my shoulders and bent to kiss my cheek, lingering long enough to inhale deeply.

The sound of a scuffle broke me out of my daze. Eric had pushed past the gnome who'd been guarding the door. Niall was right. Eric wasn't patient.

Niall and Eric exchanged some significant glances, and I let out a huge yawn.

"It was … nice to meet you," I said to Niall. Though I wasn't sure that was the best word to describe the encounter, I couldn't think of a more precise one. I didn't protest when Eric slipped his arm around me again. It was comforting to have his support.

"I hope to see you again soon, dear one," the fairy prince said. "Be safe." He turned to Eric. "I expect you will assist in that matter."

"Miss Stackhouse is quite capable. But I will do what I can," Eric replied as his grip tightened on my hip. Niall snorted as if it were a joke, but I wasn't going to try and discern the punch line.

We were both silent on the walk home. The bars that had been bursting with revelers were now subdued, and our moods echoed the quiet streets. Given my recent near-death experiences, I wouldn't have thought that an evening so light on action would leave me this drained, but, between seeing Bill and finding out my strange heritage, not to mention my conflicted feelings for Eric, I was dead tired.

"I expected you to ask more questions," Eric said once we were back in my apartment.

I still did have lots of questions, but not the energy to ask them. "I'm not sure where to start," I replied honestly.

He took a few steps forward, walking over my name where the shadow of the door's stencil cast it on the floor. He could just as easily stomp all over my heart if I let him.

"Tonight was a night for revelations," he said cryptically.

I slipped off my cranberry coat and hung it on the rack by the door. Eric hadn't taken his off. I guessed that meant he wasn't staying. I wasn't sure how I felt about that.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Eric may have been the enigmatic vampire prone to mysterious comments left open to interpretation, but I wasn't in the mood for it tonight. I collapsed on my sofa, then rested my elbows on my knees and leaned forward to rest my head in my hands so I could rub the headache out of my temples. The voices in my head were my own, and I couldn't do anything to block out my own conscience.

I didn't notice Eric had moved until he was right beside me. I sighed heavily and turned to him. "What is it that you want from me?"

"I want you to be mine," he said.

"I know what that means, Eric. And I can't—_won't_—do it."

"You are attracted to me." As if to prove his point, he leaned in closer, then ran his hand up my arm and around my neck, and I couldn't deny the effect his touch had on me. "And I am very attracted to you." To prove that point, he laid his other hand on my knee and turned me towards him, smiling widely enough that I could see his fangs.

If it had been as simple as that, I'd have had no problem going to bed with Eric. If the stray thoughts I'd picked up from several women that first night at Death Warmed Over, or tonight at his new bar, were any indication, Eric was a very skilled lover. I was certainly not immune to his charms any more than I was ignorant of his caveats.

"Yes, I am, and I can't say I'm not flattered that you feel the same. But, considering everything that's going on, I don't think acting on that attraction is such a good idea."

"I disagree," he said, and leaned forward and kissed me, slowly, leisurely, and damned if my hands didn't pull him towards me and my lips didn't reciprocate.

"It seems to me that you _can _do this, Sookie. You do it very well," Eric said with a satisfied smirk when he broke off our kiss to let me catch my breath.

I thought of the vampire queen of Louisiana who wanted to annex me for the use of my telepathy. I thought of the water fae who wanted me dead for reasons still unknown to me. They were very good justifications for not getting even more involved with the vampire in front of me. But they were also reasons not to turn myself away from a moment of pleasure, no matter how fleeting.

A piece of Eric's hair had come loose from his braid, and I reached up to tuck it behind his ear, let my hand trace around his jaw and then ran my thumb across his lips.

"How does this work?"

Eric pulled me into his lap, so my knees were on the outside of his thighs. He narrowed his eyes at me and said, "I hardly think you are completely inexperienced in the matter, Sookie."

I felt my cheeks grow hot. I may not have had many notches in my bedpost, but I wasn't completely ignorant of the carnal arts. Though it wasn't hard to understand Eric had assumed that I was referring to the physical act. After all, I was straddling him.

"Not that. _This_." I brought his hand to rest over my heart and placed mine on the same spot on his chest.

His long fingers reached up to brush over my nipple through the silky fabric of my dress.

"I guess we'll have to learn."

* * *

><p>And everyone learns FASTER ON FIRE, which I'm thinking is going to be the title of the sequel. I'm going to toss around some ideas for a noir mystery for Sookie to solve, and after I meet some of my original writing goals and finish To Wish Impossible Things, I plan on doing a follow up to My Private Eye. This story marinated in my mine for a good six months before I wrote it, so look for the sequel late summer.<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

This is Faster on Fire, part 2 of the noir mystery set in 1930s New Orleans that began with My Private Eye. I've had a lot of fun with Eric and Sookie in this time period. Charlaine Harris still owns all the characters and I will continue to sing her praises now that the final Sookie book has been published. I would never presume to rewrite the ending, but I enjoy imagining other adventures for these beloved characters in other times and places. Enjoy!

* * *

><p>I darted through the streets of New Orleans, the sound of my heels clacking against the uneven sidewalk as loud as my heart. It wasn't some dark and dangerous pursuer that had me rushing this night, but I was just in a hurry. As I turned the corner and came up on my destination, I deliberately slowed my pace and focused on catching my breath. No one needed to know just how eager I was to see them. I smoothed back my hair and then knocked on the nondescript door, which was immediately answered by a familiar face.<p>

"Oh great. You're here tonight? He'll never get anything done. It's as if he thinks this bar runs itself and can survive without him," Pam said as she waved me into the bar, which still didn't have a name. This only added to its mystique, and it was quickly becoming one of the most popular destination in the dark, seedy corners of Quarter.

"He invited me. We haven't seen each other for days," I said, trying to disguise how Pam's words hurt. I'd thought we were becoming friends, and usually she was excited to see me, even if it meant Eric would be leaving the bar early.

Pam didn't reply, just turned to scold whoever was taking so long to clear the stage and set up for the next performer. I wanted to ask her if Rose would be singing tonight, but hadn't gotten the chance. Though we'd met under less than ideal circumstances, I'd gotten to be friendly with the jazz singer who'd auditioned for a gig here that fateful night. My world had been forever changed when Eric had forced Bill to explain himself to me, then taken me to meet my long lost fairy family—and it'd been a big night for Rose, too. This was her big break. I'd seen her performance a dozen times over the last several weeks, and she'd garnered quite the following. Even Eric would sit and listen to her songs.

The bar was already quite busy, with a few regulars I recognized, both vampire and human. When I'd first started hanging out at the vampire bar, I thought it would be good for business, but the amount of vice projected at me in the thoughts of others was overwhelming, so unless I was looking for something specific, I made it a point to keep my shields up whenever I was here. I'd sensed more than a few impolite thoughts about me when certain people started to notice that Eric paid more attention to me than he did others who came here to do business or entertain themselves.

My relationship with Eric had definitely moved past business to personal. Beyond that, it wasn't something I was trying to define. I knew his regard for me allowed me certain privileges, like going back to his office, but after Pam's teasing I thought it best to wait, so I slid into his favorite booth to wait for him to make an appearance. I'd barely shrugged out of my coat and pulled off my gloves before a gin and tonic was delivered to my table. There's something to be said for the service in vampire bars—at least when you're getting cozy with the boss.

Rose came out of the dressing area, wearing her signature black dress and flowers pinned in her hair, and I was thrilled to see her. As quick as the bartenders were with the service, they were just as quick to leave. Patrons who recognized me knew what I did in my line of work, and weren't interested in chatting with me. Rose was the only one who gave me anything other than a sideways glance or cruel sneer.

"Sookie, I'm glad you're here," she said as she sat across from me. "I swear you're like my good luck charm. I sing the best on the night's you're here."

"I hear you draw a crowd whether I'm here or not," I said.

"Still, something about that night we met…I just feel like I wouldn't have gotten this job if not for you." She smiled wide, her teeth a brilliant white against her dark skin and dark red lips. I wondered if Rose ever sang happy songs, songs where she'd ever get to share that smile with her audience. It was sure to knock their socks off.

"How's your mom?" I asked, knowing she had been sick lately.

"Oh, hanging in there. How are things with you and Mr. Blue Eyes?" she asked.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I lied, but couldn't disguise my smile. I glanced around to make sure Pam or him hadn't suddenly appeared to eavesdrop, then leaned across the tabled and added, "It's unbelievable. I…I like him. And it's scary."

"Been there, girl," Rose said. She'd had her heart broken, too, which was why she could sing such sad songs so well. "Good luck with Mr. Northman. I'm up," Rose said, and slipped off to get ready for her performance.

I sat sipping on my gin and watching people. Even without an active case to work on, it was hard to turn off the investigator in me. Pam slipped into the back after hurrying along the band setting up for tonight's main show, and not long after, Eric emerged from the office, and slid into the seat beside me.

"Good evening, lover," he said, and leaned in for a kiss.

I turned my face away from him, not wanting to make a scene. "Bank's closed…" I whispered, as he nuzzled my hair.

"You saying my cash is no good?" he teased me. It amazed me how quickly vampires could pick up human slang, when it must change so quickly to their ears. Of course, it was as much a survival tactic as any of their other skills.

"I'll take a check," I said, and winked at him, which prompted a real smile and a slight chuckle.

Eric's hand found my knee under the table, and squeezed. "I missed you," he said, and I turned up to his face, surprised at his admission. Judging by his expression, his words had caught him off guard as well.

Rose came on stage then, and the band started to play. First just a light tapping on the snare drum, then the bass joined in, low and steady. A lone trumpet started following a slow melody, and then, Rose started singing, her voice rising up through the haze of cigar smoke.

As if she was some sort of witch, she cast a spell on the crowd, mesmerizing us all with her voice. As always, she sang of doomed love affairs and broken hearts. I let myself lean against Eric, enjoying the calm, quiet of his mind enveloping me as much as I enjoyed the way his hand tried in vain to sneak up under my skirt. I'd worn an extra slip and complicated garters tonight, just for the satisfaction of Eric having to peel them off later.

Sometimes it seemed that Eric could read my mind, even though I've only caught the faintest glimpse into his thoughts. No sooner was I thinking about the prospect of Eric walking me home and seeing me to bed, than he was motioning Pam over to let her know we were leaving.

"Might as well go; you never get any work done when she's around," Pam said, with a hint of venom in her voice. The look Eric shot her was harsher than any I'd seen him give, and I wondered if the discord between them was about more than me.

The walk back to my office was too long, but at least I had Eric to block the wind. A storm was brewing swiftly and suddenly off the Gulf Coast, and the sky was ready to open any minute.

Just as we were turning down my street, the heavens started falling in the form of giant raindrops. Even though Eric picked me up and ran the rest of the way to my door, we were both drenched by the time we made it to the top of my stairs. I fumbled with the lock, and Eric brushed my hands out of the way and deftly opened it. He closed the door behind us once we were inside, just as a bright bolt of lightning crashed out the window, illuminating him.

If I'd ever doubted Eric was a predator, the look on his face in that moment would have changed my opinion. By the time the boom of thunder sounded, his mouth crashed to mind. What scared me more than his expression was that if being devoured was going to feel this good, I didn't mind.

It had been less than a week since we'd last seen each other, but we kissed as if we'd been starving for months and only just found sustenance. Our drenched clothes weighed us down, and I struggled to shrug off my coat and pull Eric's down off his shoulders. His lips broke free of me long enough to divest his and help me out of mine. Then he looked down at me, his blue eyes unfathomable, and kissed me again.

Like every night we'd done this for the past few months, I pushed any thoughts of the consequences from my mind and surrendered to the moment.

If we'd been human, we'd have stumbled around trying to break free of our wet clothes without breaking our kiss, but since Eric was a vampire, he picked me up and deposited me on my bed, stripped, before I could even catch my breath. The layers I'd worn didn't slow him down at all.

When I thought about Eric, which I sometimes did on the nights we spent apart, I fantasized about a slow seduction. He would be waiting on my bed, like the night of Jason's party—the night we hadn't even kissed. He would be lying there, in the same pose, his hands folded behind his head, resting on my favorite pillow.

It always started off just as it had that night, with me removing my earrings and pulling the pins out of my hair and letting it fall over my shoulders, then slipping off my shoes and placing them in the closet. Only then, I didn't stop.

Sometimes in this fantasy, I started unbuttoning my dress, from the collar to the waist, then slid it off my shoulders and let it drop to the floor. I'd climb into bed, slowly, and either continue undressing myself while he watched, or lie back and let him do the work. Then he did the same, until we were both bare before each other. We explored each other's bodies with just the tips of our fingers and the lightest brushes of lips.

My vision was never anything like the passion of reality, with greedy strokes and forceful clash of tongues. Our desire was so strong it eclipsed want and became need, so desperate we were for each other.

At first I thought it was just the excitement of the new, or my fear it would end abruptly. But we'd been meeting every week for a few months, and showed no sign of slowing down. Then I considered I might be rushed because of the late hour. As much as I enjoyed late night visits from Eric after the bar closed, I generally slept between midnight and dawn, the only hours he was available. I couldn't have kept up with my business if I saw him any more frequently, and was exhausted mornings after he'd visited.

I enjoyed being with Eric physically and the attentions he bestowed on my body, but I looked forward to what might come after so much more. On the few nights I hadn't immediately fallen asleep or Eric hadn't immediately needed to leave, he'd held me, and we'd talked.

It wasn't even ever about important things, but it meant something to me. One night he told me about the kind of music he liked, and how he enjoyed finding new bands and performers to play in his club. Jazz was his thing; he loved the unexpected rhythms, the syncopated beats, the unpredictable melodies. Once Eric had even told me a bit about Pam and when they'd first come to America, and something about his expression made me think that he hadn't spoken of that time to anyone, even her.

He'd nuzzle me, letting his lips graze my neck, causing the skin he'd pierced in order to feed to burn with remembered sensation, though each morning when I looked for evidence of his bite, my skin was unmarked. He'd kiss my breasts, flicking out his tongue to tease my nipple as he told me I had the most beautiful set he'd ever seen. I would tell him stories about my life before New Orleans, when he asked about my childhood. He let—and encouraged—me to touch him, and although I didn't think he needed the ego boost, I let him know how much I enjoyed parts of him.

"Which part is your favorite?" he'd asked.

My cheeks flushed, and I buried my face against his shoulder, which made him laugh, a rare sound I wondered if many others got to hear.

"Oh, tell me. Is it this?" He moved my hand between us, letting it rest on a part of his anatomy I did quite enjoy, but was still not my favorite. I shook my head, moving my hand to small of his back, following the curve to his thigh.

"Sookie, you prefer my backside?" he teased, and I gave him a good smack on his rear, which led to other, more playful things.

In those stolen moments with Eric, it was as if we were the only two people in the world. And that fleeting feeling was so rare, so incomprehensible, that I wanted to experience as much of it as I could before circumstances beyond our control inevitably ruined whatever it was we were sharing. Whether it was my because of my fae enemies, vampire politics, or the simple fact I was mortal and he was not, we would inevitably be pulled apart. It was only a matter of time.

"Eric…" I said when he broke away from my mouth and started trailing kisses down my neck, letting his fangs tease along my pulse point. "Hold on. Can we slow down?" I managed to get the words out. This time would be different, I resolved.

"Oh, you want it slow, do you?" Eric said, flashing me a wicked grin. "Sookie, you should be careful what you wish for, and remember just how much differently time moves for me than for you…" and then he began again. Teasing me with his tongue, taunting me with his fingers, bringing me to the edge again and again and still refusing to send me over. Even when our bodies finally joined, he was painstakingly slow.

"Oh, please…" I finally moaned. But he didn't pick up the pace, still slowing pulling out of me before just as slowly slipping back in, but punctuating it with an extra thrust.

"Please what?" he asked, innocently, still cool, calm, collected while I had been reduced to a sweaty mess.

"Eric…" was all I'd been able to say, because I didn't know what I wanted, except for him.

"Is this what you want, Sookie?" he asked, capturing my eyes as he began to move inside of me with more force and determination.

It was. But at this point, I was beyond words, so I leaned in and kissed his neck, then bit down with my dull teeth just hard enough for him to feel it, and he'd come undone, flipped me over and continued from behind, pumping with a new sense of urgency. Just before he sank his fangs into the curve of my neck, he whispered "mine" in my ear.

We collapsed and lay tangled together for a long, blissful time, and the only sound I could hear was my own heart. When I'd finally calmed, Eric gathered me to him, spooning me from behind, and kissed my shoulder, then my neck.

"You are mine," he reiterated, and I stiffened.

Just a moment ago, I had been. In the throes of passion, there would have been no denying it. But now, in the calm afterglow, I didn't think we meant the same thing by it.

"Of course I am, Eric." I turned in his arms and kissed him lightly on the mouth. "When it's just the two of us, here, in my bed, I'm all yours. But don't think you can say that in front of any other vampires."

His eyes narrowed at me until his face was a barely concealed mask of fury.

"So, is that how you see me? Simply here to pleasure you and leave until another vampire comes along? Perhaps you're looking forward to becoming the queen's property. No doubt there will be a line of vampires ready to taste your blood, even if it only has the faintest taste of fairy." He sat up in bed, letting the sheets fall back from him, revealing his perfectly sculpted chest and arms.

I resisted the urge to slap him.

"No, Eric." I sat up too, feeling dwarfed by his large frame leaning over me. Gathering up the sheets to keep the chill away, I searched for the words to explain. I knew most women would be happy to hear such a declaration. I saw all kinds of cheating bastards, men who wouldn't touch their wives but went whoring about the Quarter. Perhaps it was a blessing that I'd never be able to be a wife to a human man. I wasn't sure I had it in me.

But I'd done the "you are mine" thing with a vampire, and it hadn't turned out well. I had the scars to remind me of where that path led. Possessiveness I could handle, but I wouldn't give someone that kind of power over me again.

Eric just glared at me, his eyes icy blue flames.

"Listen. I like being with you. I like spending time with you. I like what we do when we're together. I don't want to stop." I paused just long enough to hold back from saying what I was thinking, which was that I had no idea how Eric passed the nights we didn't spend together, or who he spent them with. Eric may have wanted me to be his. But I was under no delusion that it went both ways. Eric could never be _mine_. I was aware of his reputation and knew he certainly wasn't feeding solely from me. There was no way he could, at least not if I wanted to stay healthy. What we had now was enough for me, if only because it was all that was possible. "Can't we just let this be? Enjoy what we have?" I reached up to cup his cheek, but he turned away from my hand.

"You punish me for someone else's sins," he said, but he refused to meet my eyes. "And you are more naïve than I thought if you do not see how much _you_ need _me_."

"Because of your queen? If she comes for me tomorrow, what exactly are you going to do? Defy her, stand by me?"

"If you were _mine_…"

But that word made sent a shiver up my spine again, igniting my own anger. "Yes, Eric. Please tell me. If I'm yours, what does that change?"

He trained his blue eyes on me, giving me an icy glare that sent a shiver up my spine. "You don't trust me."

"No, I don't," I said. I trusted Eric not to kill me, but that was about it. If he could help it, I figured he'd try to keep me safe from the water fae who had it in for me, if only because he had some history with my great-grandfather Niall. I doubted he had any intention of turning me over to his queen…unless it suited his interests. I wasn't fool enough to think that Eric's offer of protection was absolute or selfless.

And I certainly didn't trust him with my heart.

Eric narrowed his eyes at me until they were slits. His anger was palpable, as if it was another living, breathing entity taking up the air in the room. Without speaking, he abruptly departed from my bed and began to dress.

"So you're just leaving?" I asked.

Instead of answering, he went over to the window and opened it, letting in a rush of cold air. I pulled the blankets up around me. He gave me one last unfathomable look before elegantly climbing out the window and taking off into the night.

We wouldn't be cuddling tonight.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning I let myself sleep in. Trying to keep vampire hours, if only one or two nights a week, had caught up with me. Once I got out of bed I had tea and toast and tidied up a bit. My gran had kept a clean house, and I was embarrassed to know she could be looking down and seeing my dirty laundry piled up or the dust that accumulated on my furniture. I don't know if there is a heaven and if there is, I'm not certain I'll get there, but if I do, I don't want to be chastised for my slovenly ways by my grandmother as soon as I pass through the pearly gates. Once my little back room apartment was cleaned up I made myself presentable should a potential client wander by.

Which they hadn't been doing much of lately. I'd had a few quick, easy jobs, spying on spouses and business partners, but business had been dry the last few weeks. I had almost convinced myself to stop twiddling my thumbs at my desk organizing files I'd never need and go visit Amelia in her shop, when the little bell signaled the entrance of a potential client.

I stood up and straightened my shirt, then greeted a stout man in a frumpy grey suit.

"Good afternoon, may I help you?" I said in my most ingratiating voice. He didn't look like a high dollar client, but I hated judging people by appearances, and my bank account balance was running dangerously low. I'd take any client at this point.

"Looking for Stackhouse. Why don't you round him up and get me a cup of coffee while you're at it," he said in the sweet Southern drawl of a man used to having women waiting on him hand and foot.

"Sorry, sir, but I'm fresh out of coffee. If that's what you came for, there's a great cafe across the way. If you're looking for Stackhouse, well then you've found her."

I smiled as the realization sank in. He was certainly not the first to assume that Stackhouse the private investigator was a man. I ushered the comparison to a similar exchange I'd had with Eric the night we'd first met out of my mind. This potential client was not nearly as suave. He turned beet red at my unexpected revelation.

"I'm so sorry! I just assumed…I hope you're not offended. I knew I was going to mess this up. See, I really need your help."

The man was so flustered I had to bite back a laugh. I could tell from his fragmented, frustrated thoughts that he really did have a problem, and not with his wife, so the prospect of a real mystery got me excited. Plus, I needed the distraction from whatever had transpired between Eric and me last night, not to mention the paycheck.

"You remember the warehouse down by the water, went up in flames last week?" he asked.

"Sure, I do…" I really didn't, but it wasn't hard to pick the details up from his thoughts. "But why don't you slow down, Mister…"

"I didn't even introduce myself! Graham. Jack Graham." He held out his hand to shake, then pulled it back because he thought it impolite for a man to initiate a handshake with a woman.

"Why don't you have a seat, Mr. Graham, and tell me what brings you here."

"Well, the warehouse fire. It was ruled an arson, but the police aren't doing anything to investigate. But I'm suspicious and worried that whoever did it will attack again, and this time it might prove deadly. I need to know who was responsible. Someone told me you have a way of finding things out that the police miss. Whatever the cost, it doesn't matter."

"Well, Mr. Graham, I haven't ever investigated arson before. I can't guarantee results, but I can promise I'll do my best."

Relief washed over his face. He'd been afraid it would take more convincing. What he didn't know was how slow business had been. I'd have taken a case tracking down a missing cat if someone was willing to pay.

We discussed the details. Where the warehouse was, who might have had a grudge against someone, possible motivations, but Mr. Graham didn't have a lot of details and wasn't very helpful. Though I wasn't sure where to start, I told him I'd check back with him in a few days with my progress. He left a check for the retainer and promised an even bigger chunk of change if my investigation turned up the arsonist.

The rest of the afternoon I spent reading the newspaper articles about the warehouse fire, then took a trip down to the police station to find out which officers had been assigned to the case to see if I could get a peek in their thoughts, but didn't have any luck. My investigation skills work best if I had more to start from, so it was discouraging to find so little.

When night fell, I found myself wandering back to the unnamed club. I told myself it was to pick through the minds of the criminal elements, but Pam didn't buy it.

"Two nights in a row, Sookie? You're becoming quite the fixture around here. And Eric's out at the moment."

"I didn't come to see him. I've got a new case. I thought I might pick up a lead among the unsavory characters that flock to this fine establishment." I gave Pam my best smile, and she almost returned it.

"Very well," she said, and let me enter.

It was a busy night, busier than I'd seen it since it opened. The conversation was loud enough to overwhelm, even if the roar of peoples' thoughts hadn't been available to me. It took me a moment to orient myself as I slid onto a barstool.

The new bartender, a true New Orleans character complete with a wicked grin and an eye patch, started to pour a gin. "Oh, no, Charles, just water tonight." I said. "I'm working tonight."

"Ah, Sookie, I didn't take you for a working girl, and I never knew one of 'em to turn down a drink," he said, flashing me that wide, crooked smile. The dim light of the smoky bar caught the gold tooth set in just behind his canines. I wondered if he'd had the tooth capped before or after he'd acquired his set of fangs.

I tried not to be offended by his insinuation. Charles had come to New Orleans on a pirate ship, and the only profession he thought women capable of was the world's oldest. "No, not that kind of work. Got a new case."

"Ah, that's right. You and your detective business. Scorned lovers? Is one of our fine clientele stepping out on his wife? Or is he making deals behind his business partner's back?"

"It's actually an arson investigation. That old warehouse that burned down last week. Police aren't very motivated to pursue it. At least not enough for the owner."

Charles eyes widened just the tiniest bit. A casual observer might not have noticed his surprise, but I was tuned to these tells. "Now Sookie, you're too pretty to get mixed up in that business."

I wasn't sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, and didn't have a chance to decide before Eric walked into the bar.

Our eyes met, just briefly, and then he turned away and found Pam, then pulled her into a dark corner and spoke in hushed whispers.

I'd be lying if I said it didn't sting to have him ignore me, but I hadn't come here to see him tonight.

"What sort of business is that?" I asked, turning back to Charles, who was done pouring a round of whiskeys for a group of rough looking men.

"Maybe it's too late for you. But I wouldn't go around asking questions you might not want to know the answers to," was all he said. Vampires and their damn cryptic ways.

Eric and Pam had disappeared into the back office for a long time, and I sat around, picking up pieces of conversations and thoughts, none of them helpful. A sense of dread overcame me. What if I couldn't solve this case? What if I didn't get any more work? A single woman in New Orleans had limited options for supporting herself. I was breaking the mold as it was. I knew there were other ways to use my gift. I could give the men who sat around playing poker a run for their money any day, but that didn't seem right or fair. I could use it to steal, to threaten, to blackmail. The only problem was my grandmother had raised me better than that, perhaps because she knew my gift gave me a dangerous power I could use to exploit others. But thanks to her years of moral training, I couldn't bring myself to do that.

I didn't want to think about what I'd be forced to do if I couldn't keep my business alive.

Just when I was ready to call it a night, Rose came on to sing one last song. As she belted out a tune over a saxophone melody, I caught Eric watching from the shadows. His eyes were far away, and though his gaze rested on Rose I knew that was not what his eyes were seeing.

I slipped out before the song was over without speaking a word to Eric. I certainly had more important things than my love affair with a vampire on my mind, and apparently, so did he.


	13. Chapter 13

I spent the next several days searching in vain for a lead on my new case and my nights trying not to think about Eric. I wasn't having any sort of luck digging up any information that might help me find the arsonist. Cheaters and swindlers were easier to track down. Here, I had to find a motive, and I couldn't see why anyone would want to torch an old warehouse down by the water, but the police had confirmed it was deliberate. I talked to sailors, to fisherman, to guys working on the dock, but no one had seen anything suspicious. Mr. Graham came by for updates daily, and I hated telling him I had nothing new.

When he came back yet again, I snapped at him. "You know, I might have more luck if you gave me something to go on." My temper was short. Despite a lack of late night visitors, I still wasn't sleeping well.

"I was told you were the best private detective in The Big Easy, Stackhouse," he spit right back at me. "We all answer to someone. My ass is on the line, here."

"You mean it's not your property?" I asked. In our previous conversations, Graham had led me to believe that I was working for him. If that wasn't the case, we had a problem. I'd assumed he'd been earnest when he said that he needed my help because I hadn't picked up any reason to doubt his words from his thoughts. But I hadn't looked too closely. Now, I would.

"Two more days, Mr. Graham. I'll have news for you by then, and I'd get more done if you didn't constantly interrupt my work." I showed him out of my office and decided to take a break.

The only thing I could think of that would make me feel better is a slice my gran's pecan pie, but since that wasn't possible, I decided to stop by the diner for a slice of Lafayette's version, which came close.

I was glad to see friendly faces on the counter stools. "Hey, Sookie! Long time no see. You look like you've been burning the candle at both ends," Laf said as he poured me a cup of coffee and dished up a slice of pie without me even having to ask.

"Loverboy keeping you busy, Sook? Is that why you've forgotten your old friends?" Amelia said from her perch.

"Just work. Candle is only burning from one end," I said, with a hint of regret. Sleepless nights were more fun spent with Eric than thinking about our fight and the cold way he'd looked at me from across the room at the club the other night.

"Me too, hon. Too much work and not nearly enough play," Lafayette said.

"Well, I've got big news," Amelia chimed in. She looked like a cat that ate the canary.

"Do tell," I said, happy for any distraction from my dead-end investigation and definitely dead boyfriend.

"I'm moving in with Trey. Father's furious because we're not getting married first."

"The guy you met at Jason's party? That is awful quick," I said. I may not be in a position to judge others since I let a vampire into my bed, but moving in with someone before being married still seemed taboo to me, even if Amelia was a witch.

"Sometimes when you know something's right, you just feel it. I feel this. Besides, it's just old-fashioned and impractical to wait until we get married. I'm not even sure I believe in it."

"Quite the radical, aren't we?" Lafayette chimed in.

A black queer, a witch living in a sin with a werewolf, and a telepath with a vampire. We were something, all right, and I wasn't sure if radical was the right word, so I finished my pie while Amelia told the story of her father's reaction to her big news. Hearing her talk about how exciting it would be to wake up next to her man every morning caused a small ache to flare in my heart. Even if I wanted that, which I wasn't sure I did, I'd never have it with Eric.

But I listened to my friend talk about arranging the furniture and making dinners for two like a real homemaker. I wondered how much Trey knew about Amelia's witchcraft and if she realized he was a werewolf. I wanted to ask, but it was none of my business. It's not like I was exactly confiding in Amelia about my rocky relationship.

Since my slice of pie had ruined my dinner, I wasn't hungry enough to cook a meal for myself later that night. Instead I spent the evening washing out my lingerie, including the newer slips and lacy things I'd purchased since I'd started seeing Eric on a regular basis. Though I didn't think he minded one bit what I wore underneath my clothes, I liked the way the silk felt and the look of the lace details. It made me feel desirable.

Eric made me feel desirable, too. At least until he started up with the "mine" business, which was old hat. I didn't understand why anything about our relationship needed to change. Things were fine as they were.

After hanging my stockings and garters and bras and panties out to dry, I curled up with a book, but it couldn't capture my imagination. The heroine was foolish and the mystery, obvious. Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

I woke up in the dark, cold. My window was open, though it definitely hadn't been when I'd tucked myself into bed.

Maybe I'd been wrong about Eric not being interested in my underthings. He was standing in the doorway of my bedroom, running his fingers over the satiny slips and stockings hung out to dry.

"What are you—" but he crossed the room and was on the bed and kissing me before I could finish the sentence.

I'd forgotten we weren't speaking.

Eric kissed down my neck, nipping along my pulse point. My fingers pulled on his tie, trying to get access to return the favor. As dashing as Eric looked in his pinstripe suits, they looked better on the floor. Normally Eric would help, but he seemed to be enjoying the tugging.

I clumsily popped off the buttons and pushed the shirt off his shoulders as I pushed any reservations about our last conversation out of my mind. His hands snaked up under my nightdress as mine worked on the button of his pants. I kissed down his chest, teasing his nipples with my tongue.

"Bite a little," Eric groaned, so I did. Then he said, "harder," and I stopped.

I liked Eric better when he wasn't talking.

"Eric, wait. We can't do this," I said.

"We do this quite well," he replied as he teased his fingers between my thighs.

"I won't bite you." Eric couldn't trick me into taking his blood. I wasn't falling for that again.

"Then I'll do the biting," he said, and that was the end of our argument.

Hours later, with dawn nearing, I was exhausted and buzzing with a dazed sort of pleasure and Eric was still and quiet beside me. I felt comfortable and relaxed. In moments like these it was easy to forget about any danger or pressure of work. For just a little while, it was nice to pretend that there was nothing outside of this bed that mattered.

Then he ruined it by speaking.

"My Sookie," he said, and pulled me against him so my head was nestled in the crook of his arm. He ran his fingers through my hair.

"Yeah, yeah, buddy. Get it out of your system now," I murmured, too content to protest, but still myself enough not to let it go without comment.

"I'll miss you," he said, again, as if he surprised himself with his words. "I"m going to be leaving New Orleans," he said.

"Why?" I asked, and it came out like a shriek.

"Orders. I am to be the new Sheriff of Area 5."

"What's a Sheriff?" I leaned closer to him, digging my fingers into his skin. I didn't want things to change between us, but I didn't want to lose him, either.

"The state is divided up into territories. I would be managing one of them for the Queen."

"Oh," I said, and it sounded lame.

"You are originally from a town not far from Shreveport, correct?"

"Yes, about 50 miles away." I didn't see what that had to do with anything, but Eric wasn't going to elaborate on the duties of a Sheriff.

"Bon Temps?" he asked lightly. I didn't remember ever having divulged that detail, and wondered how he knew.

I nodded, moving my head in affirmation against him.

"You could leave here, too. Come with me." _Be mine_ I heard. I sat up as quickly, stunned. The covers fell away from me and Eric was distracted by my bare breasts. He reached for one, brushing the side then circling my nipple with his finger while he latched on to the other with his mouth. I fell back as Eric rolled on top of me. I can't say I didn't enjoy his attention.

But I couldn't just let myself get carried away. "Stop, Eric. Wait. You can't be serious."

He looked up at me, a serious, even grim, look on his face. "I am deathly serious, Sookie."

"My life is here. I have my practice, my friends, my apartment. There is nothing for me there."

"I would be there," he said.

"And what exactly are you to me, Eric?"

"I am…" Eric's body loomed over me, his arms now on either side of me, caging me in. "You should come to Area 5, with me." Eric was a master at dodging questions and turning the conversation back to his argument. But I wouldn't belabor my point. His lack of response told me it was an answer I wouldn't want to hear, and that was all I needed to know.

"My life is in New Orleans, Eric. My work…I'm not sure I'd get quite the volume of cases in a smaller city, and I've worked hard to build my reputation here."

It wasn't the only reason I wanted to stay, but it was the best one. The least personal. Eric was a hard worker, and he would understand my dedication to my livelihood.

"You are more concerned with your job than with–"

"It's not just that. What about my friends here?"

"They are more important to you than–"

"Than what, Eric?"

"Than your safety?"

"I can take care of myself."

"I am honor bound…your fairy kin…"

"Is that what this about? Protecting me to settle some old debt?"

Eric let out a low growl of frustration, but didn't back away from me. His hips pressed against mine, and I could feel how angry–and aroused–he was. His face was so close to mine, I couldn't see anything except his eyes as he searched my own for answers to questions he wouldn't voice.

Then, without warning, he rolled off me and began to dress.

"That's it then?" I asked. As adamant as I was about remaining in New Orleans, I didn't want us to part still angry with one another. The last few days had been uncomfortable, even sad.

"Perhaps it's for the best," he said. "I will be even more busy and have no need of further distraction." He said the word with contempt. Distraction. Was that all I was to him?

He turned to face me, pants and shoes on, his shirt only buttoned halfway leaving a most enticing part of his chest displayed. A chest I had been resting my head against only moments before.

"So this is goodbye?" I said. More of that uncomfortable sadness bloomed in my gut and reached up to wrap itself around my heart.

" is." He crossed the room again in two long steps, grabbed me and crashed his lips to mine. He kissed me as he had the first time, all those weeks ago in my office. Hard, fast, desperate.

His eyes were wild when he released me, bright and alive. "You will be my undoing," he whispered, so low I wasn't sure if I caught the words correctly. Then he grabbed his jacket and climbed out my window.

When I woke in the morning, there was a note on my dresser that said only "in case you change your mind," and an address in Shreveport.


End file.
